The Cafe
by SnarkyFanGirl
Summary: Bella is the owner of a small eclectic coffee shop, and she likes her life the way it is. she calls the shots. when a new family moves into town, however, they turn her world on its axis, and make her wonder what else she's been missing.  AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

"I'll have a double half-caf with skim milk, to go, please," the petite brunette told me decisively. I rang her up, took her money, and proceeded down the line to begin making her drink.

"Do you want whipped cream on that?" I asked, almost as an afterthought. If I were a betting woman, I would have bet my right boob that she was going to say extra whipped cream – the skinny little girls who ordered the skim milk drinks almost always did.

"Extra whipped cream, please," she chirped, smiling brightly at me. I couldn't help the knowing smirk that turned my lips up, and nodded at her. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I answered distractedly.

"I'm new in town, and I'm not familiar with all of the local hot spots yet. Are there any amazingly good restaurants you can recommend to me?"

"Um, yeah," I said, glancing up once before piping some whipped cream on the top of her drink. "What kind of food? Fast food, a nice sit-down place? Italian, French, Cuban-"

"Okay," she said, giggling and waving her hand to get me to stop. I passed her drink across the counter towards her. "A nice sit-down Italian place. Is that specific enough?"

"Next door," I said, nodding my head to the right. "Lentini's is amazing. I recommend the Veal Marcello – so freaking good. I swear I think I could live off of that stuff." She nodded, her eyes slightly wider than they had been a moment ago. I started to wipe down the counter with a wet washcloth. It was almost lunch time, which meant that this place would be crazy busy in a few minutes – so I might as well get it cleaned up as best I could.

"I don't really have any friends in town – would you possibly want to have dinner with me?" My arm jerked once before I resumed my cleaning. She wasn't asking me on a _date_, was she? I must have been giving her a dubious look that betrayed my thoughts, because she giggled. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not a lesbian. I'm happily engaged," she said, showing me her _huge_ diamond ring. "I just don't have any female friends here, and while my brothers and my fiancé are great, it'd be nice to have some girl time, you know?"

"Uh – sure, I guess," I said, shrugging. I'd use any justifiable excuse to eat at Lentini's. Sometimes I would even give Jake, one of the waiters at the restaurant, free drinks in exchange for bringing me a free lunch. "I have to warn you though, I don't have many female friends, either, so I might not be the best company." Actually… I didn't have _any_ friends to speak of. I spent all my time here in this coffee shop, because I owned it and it was my baby. I only had two other employees, and one of those other two was a busboy, not a barista. I watched as she bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands together gleefully.

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself, if we're going to be best friends. I'm Alice Cullen." She extended the hand that wasn't holding her drink, and I shook it firmly.

"Bella Swan."

"So, Bella," she began, moving aside as one of my regulars came in. I started making his drink without him uttering a syllable, and she shot an odd sideways smile at him before looking back at me. "Do you have a boyfriend that you'd like to invite tonight?"

"Tonight?" I asked, confused, as I steamed some milk.

"For dinner," she clarified.

"I didn't realize you meant tonight," I said, pouring the milk into the espresso.

"Is that okay?" She took a sip of her drink, and her eyes rolled back into her head. The moan that came from her mouth was the stuff of porno films, and Seth (my regular customer) stared openly at her. "Holy shit, this is amazing!"

"Thanks," I said, fighting back the pleased smile and the blush that threatened. Seth grinned as I handed him his paper cup.

"Bella's shop always serves the best coffee. Best desserts, too. Speaking of which, I think I'll have my dessert before lunch – do you have any of that chocolate cake with the chocolate shavings on top?"

"Sure do. Do you want it for here, or to go?"

"To go, please." I slid the dessert cabinet open and cut a sliver of cake off before placing it in a styrofoam box. I placed a plastic fork and napkin on top of the box, and he handed me his money. He grabbed his coffee and cake and started to walk away.

"Seth," I called, frowning. He turned around.

"Yeah?"

"You have change coming to you. Wait just a second and I'll get it for you."

"Keep it – this cake deserves every penny and more. Let me know when you start selling whole cakes." He nodded at Alice. "Good day, miss." Alice watched him leave and then turned to me with a huge smile.

"Okay, I'm sold. I need a piece of that cake, too." I laughed and dished her up a slice. She tried to pay me for it, but I refused to take her money.

"Just tell other people about it, and bring me new business. Word of mouth is like gold to a small business owner." Her eyes widened.

"You _own_ this place?"

"Guilty," I said, smiling. "I love it. Nothing makes me happier than the smell of coffee percolating, or the way the beans look when you grind them. There's nothing about coffee that I don't love." She smiled at me and took a seat at the table closest to the counter. I watched in anticipation as she took her first bite of cake. Her eyes slid shut and she let loose another one of her porno-worthy moans. I giggled. I was particularly proud of that damned cake – it had taken me almost two months to perfect the recipe.

"Je-sus," she breathed slowly. She licked her lips and looked at me. "If that's not better than sex, it sure as hell is right up there with it." I smiled and took the order of the lady who approached the counter. After I'd handed her the two chai tea lattes that she'd ordered to go and taken her money, Alice approached me with her empty plate. "So what time do you get out of here?"

"I probably won't be finished until around nine. It's a weeknight and I only stay open until eight – but it'll take me an hour to clean up and prep for tomorrow's service, count out the till, blah blah."

"This might sound presumptuous of me," she began, looking down at her hands. "But if you need some help here – I mean, if you're looking to hire someone – I would be more than happy to help you out."

"Actually – that would be great," I said honestly. "You'd still have to fill out an application and all that, and I'd only be able to pay minimum wage, but the tips are-" She didn't wait for me to finish, and began squealing excitedly.

"I don't care about the pay! I can't wait! Thank you, Bella – you won't be sorry!" She lurched across the counter and wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing once before letting go. I couldn't help it; I laughed. "I'll get the application from you tonight when I see you. I'll just meet you over at the restaurant around nine fifteen – is that okay?"

"Sure."

"I have to rush home – so much to do! I have to tell Jasper – that's my fiancé, by the way – and my brothers that I got a job!" She rushed towards the door, stopping and running back to grab the coffee she'd almost left behind. I laughed. "See you later, Bella!"

It was the strangest sensation, I thought as people began to wander in – the feeling that Alice and I were going to be the best of friends.

* * *

><p>I was dead on my feet. The day had been particularly busy, and I had no idea why. Usually our busiest time came around the holidays, when people were out shopping and happened to walk by. The smell of the coffee was irresistible – especially on cold winter days when a body needed warming up. I've had customers tell me before that they just purchased a cup of hot chocolate or black coffee to warm up their hands.<p>

I turned the sign on the front door from open to closed, and went back behind the counter. Now that the general public was gone, I could listen to whatever music I preferred, at whatever volume I preferred. I reached under the counter and pressed play on my CD player, and turned it up so loud that the ceramic mugs on the counter vibrated a little bit. I had already counted down the till and put the deposit bag in the safe, and was wiping down the counters when one of my favorite songs came on. I started swaying to the music and singing along as I moved the washcloth across the shiny steel surface.

_But it was not your fault, but mine_

_And it was your heart on the line_

_I really fucked it up this time_

_Didn't I, my dear?_

I was so engrossed in the song, in fact, that I didn't hear someone come in the shop, and when I turned around to begin wiping down the other counter and saw someone standing there, I screamed. He quickly put his hands up to signal that he surrendered, or didn't have a weapon, or whatever the hell he meant by it. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest to try and calm the rapid pace of my heart, and turned the music down.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, his hands still in the air. "I didn't mean to scare you like that – I tried to talk to you, but the music was too loud."

"I'm fine, but in case you missed the sign on the door, we're closed," I said, using my free hand to rub the back of my neck.

"I know, I was just hoping you could tell me where this Italian restaurant is." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Lentini's?" I guessed. His head shot up, and for the first time I noticed that his eyes were a beautiful viridian. He nodded, and I sucked in a quick breath. When he moved, the reddish highlights in his brown hair glinted.

"How did you know?"

"It's really popular," I explained, shrugging. "It's right next door."

"So if I'd just kept on walking, I wouldn't have scared the piss out of you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the right as he regarded me. I gave him a shaky smile. The light hit his face at such an angle that I could see the five o'clock shadow on his perfectly sculpted jaw. Heat flooded through me as I realized that I wanted to lick it.

"Basically, yeah." He grinned, and I swear on all that's holy that my heart fucking stopped inside my chest. It should have been illegal to be that good looking – I could feel my panties practically melting.

"I'm really sorry about that," he apologized again. He shoved his phone back down in his pocket, and I tried my best not to be jealous of the stupid thing that was now snugly in the back pocket of his jeans. "But that was a great song you were just listening to."

"You a fan?" I asked, tugging my eyes away from his long enough to finish wiping down the counter top.

"Absolutely. I love the raw emotion they pour into every song." _I will not look up. I will not look up. I will not… damn._ My resolve was pitiful, and when my eyes met his again, I felt like I was drowning. "Hey, I know you're closed and all, but is there any way that I could persuade you to make me an espresso? It smells so damn good in here." He glanced around, no doubt checking out the art that hung everywhere. I was a big supporter of local artists, and I let them display their work in my shop. Occasionally it sold, and they would give me a tiny portion of the proceeds.

"Yeah –you're in luck, I haven't cleaned the machines yet." I glanced up at the clock to make sure that I wasn't running late to meet Alice (I wasn't, it was only eight thirty), and I began making his drink. He was lucky that he was so damned pretty and that he happened to like one of my favorite bands, otherwise I would've kicked his ass to the curb already.

"This place is pretty incredible," he breathed, taking it all in. I had to admit, I was enthralled just by watching him look around.

"I take it you've never been in here before, then?" I handed him a double shot in the smallest Styrofoam cup I had. "Sorry about the disposable cup, but I've already done all of the dishes." He shook his head and gave me a brilliant smile.

"No problem whatsoever." He took a sip, and his eyes closed as he savored it. I bit my lip to hide my smile, and instead of watching him like I wanted to, I started to clean the espresso machine. "Fuck, that's good." My hand jerked when he spoke; the curse word (which was actually peppered liberally throughout my own vernacular, much to the chagrin of my late father) sounded incredibly obscene falling from those perfect lips, and shot straight to my girly parts.

"Thanks," I muttered, pointedly avoiding looking at his face. It was really no surprise that I had sex on the brain – I'd been celibate for nearly two years now. Owning and running the coffee shop took a lot of time, and I didn't have the time or patience to spare on men; especially not the kind of men who didn't appreciate taking a back seat to my business, which they inevitably always did. That didn't mean that I didn't miss having sex, though. I missed it a lot – I just didn't have time for it. I felt my face begin to burn as I allowed myself to imagine what it would feel like to share a bed with the amazingly good looking man in front of me.

"Are you all right?" His voice startled me, and I jumped a little bit. A few stray hairs had fallen out of my loose bun, and I pushed them out of my face with the back of my hand. I glanced at the clock again, and barely registered the fact that he'd shoved some money down in to the empty tip jar on the counter. "That should cover the coffee and the tip," he said, grinning at me. I dropped the washcloth into a bucket under the counter and grabbed my purse, which was right next to it. "I really appreciate you making time for me. I think I'll be a regular customer."

"Thanks," I said, my gratitude genuine as I smiled at him. "I appreciate that."

"Are you locking up?" he asked, eyeing my purse.

"Yeah – I'm actually headed over to Lentini's to meet a friend for dinner." I flipped off the light in the back room where we sometimes had live music. He watched as I opened each door and turned off the bathroom lights, and then I turned off the kitchen light.

"Really? Well since I've never been there before, you'll have to recommend something to me." He opened the front door and waited for me to turn the lights off and turn the key in the deadbolt.

"I adore the Veal Marcello," I gushed, matching his slow pace. What the hell – it was only eight forty five – I officially had half an hour before I had to meet Alice, so I had time to talk to a hot guy, right? "But there's nothing bad on the menu, really."

"What's in the Veal Marcello?" he wondered aloud, still sipping from his cup.

"Onions, pancetta, pepperoni, butter, noodles, and tomatoes." He wrinkled his nose.

"Pepperoni? In a pasta dish? I'll stick to having it on my pizza, thanks."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," I shot back.

"Pass. Second favorite dish there?"

"The butter and sage tortelloni. Rich and decadent, but it melts in your mouth."

"I think that's more my taste," he agreed, grinning at me. I pointed to my right.

"This is it. It was nice meeting you-?" I realized we'd been talking for a while, and I hadn't even asked his name.

"Edward," he offered, extending his hand. I took it in mine, and fought back the gasp that wanted to escape. My hand was tingling from his touch, and it radiated all the way up my arm.

"Bella," I forced out, clearing my throat.

"It's been lovely, Bella," he said, his voice low. Damn. That voice made my insides quiver like Jell-O.

"Edward! Bella!" I dropped his hand and turned to watch in confusion as my new friend launched herself into the open arms of my current companion. "You've already met!"

"Well, if by met you mean that I scared this poor woman shitless, then yes, we've met." He smirked at me over the top of her head, and I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't stop the smile that turned my lips upward. "How do you know her?"

"Remember I told you I got a job today?" He nodded. "Bella is the one who hired me." She turned to me. "Bella, this oaf is my big brother." My eyes widened slightly, and I noticed that his did, too.

"Brother?"

"_This_ is the woman who gave you the sex cake?" he asked incredulously. I couldn't help it; I snorted. Alice giggled.

"Sex cake?" I echoed, amused.

"I told him it was better than sex. He didn't believe me. Did you have any?" she asked, turning to him. He shook his head.

"She was closing up shop when I barged in on her." Alice frowned down at the empty cup he was holding.

"But you have a coffee from her shop," she pointed out. She turned and pinned me with a calculating look.

"He suckered me into it," I answered honestly, shrugging. I didn't miss the interest in his eyes as I explained. "He told me he liked one of my favorite bands, and then he flattered my coffee. I couldn't _not_ make him one after that." His smirk was of epic proportions.

"So a guy just has to tell you he likes the aroma of your coffee and that he likes the same music as you, and he gets a cup of said coffee for it? What do I have to say to get a slice of this sex cake, then?" I shot him a dirty look as Alice giggled.

"Is it time to go in yet?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. The mid-October weather had turned chilly, and I hadn't brought a jacket with me. My short-sleeved t-shirt was perfect for the café, but it didn't serve me very well out here in the cold night air.

"Where's your coat?" Edward asked, frowning.

"At home." I turned and pointed towards the café. Alice blinked owlishly.

"You live in the coffee shop?"

"Above it," I clarified. Edward shrugged his jacket off, and before I realized what he was doing, he draped it around my shoulders. When I tried to give it back, he frowned and held up a hand to signify his refusal.

"Keep it until we walk you home later – then I'll take it back." It was my turn to blink.

"We?"

"I hope you don't mind," Alice said, having the good grace to look sheepish. "I invited him and Emmett to have dinner with us. Emmett's our other brother – but he couldn't make it. He and Jasper are working late, trying to get their office ready." I ignored the comment about her brother eating with us.

"Their office?"

"They rented a space two blocks over," she said, pointing down the street. "They're getting the office ready – painting, setting up furniture, that kind of stuff."

"What do they do?" Despite the warmth that Edward's jacket provided, I shivered.

"Why don't we take this conversation inside?" Edward suggested, placing one hand at the small of my back and one arm around Alice's shoulders. I tried not to fidget and give myself away, but I'll be goddamned if that light touch on my back wasn't making my whole body feel like it was on fire. I may as well have had a branding iron pressed to my flesh, as hot as it felt.

"Emmett and Jasper are attorneys," Alice explained. We let her brother guide us into the restaurant. He dropped his hand from my back, and my stomach pitched as I lamented the loss. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me? When had I turned into one giant walking hormone? I turned my head to listen to Alice tell the maître-d her last name for the reservation when I caught a whiff of the jacket I was wearing. My eyes darted around to make sure that neither she nor her brother were watching me before I turned further to the side and pressed my nose against the material of the jacket. I closed my eyes and inhaled softly. The clean, crisp scent was completely manly, and completely _him_. I exhaled slowly and turned to see Alice's eyes focused on me. One eyebrow was arched, and she was smirking.

Busted. Damn it.

At least Edward hadn't seen. I removed the jacket and draped it over my arm as we were led to our table. Once we got there, I draped it gently over the back of the chair. Before I could move, Edward was there, pulling my chair out for me. I stared at the chair for a moment, dumbstruck. No one had ever pulled my chair out for me before.

"It works better if you sit in it, you know," Edward mused aloud, grinning crookedly at me. I rolled my eyes and sat, ignoring the way his fingertips brushed lightly against my back as he helped push my chair in. Alice was practically bouncing by the time he'd moved over to her side of the table and done the same thing.

I busied myself with perusing the wine selection, since I already had the menu memorized. I was definitely going to need to fortify myself with alcohol if I was going to be forced to be around her brother for any prolonged amount of time.

"So, Bella," Edward began, not even looking at his menu. "How long have you been working at the coffee shop?"

"She owns it," Alice piped up, her eyes focused on her menu. I exhaled softly. Edward's eyes widened with – could it be? – appreciation.

"I've owned it for three years now," I explained. "I worked there for six years before I bought it."

"How old are you, exactly?" Alice blurted, looking up. Edward snorted.

"I thought women didn't like to be asked their age."

"They don't like to be asked their age by men," Alice clarified. I couldn't help the smile that surfaced.

"I'm twenty five."

"But that means you started working there when you were-"

"Sixteen," I supplied, nodding. "A friend of my Dad's owned it when I started working there. It's the only job I've ever had. He passed away three years ago, and he left it to me when he died." Alice's mouth dropped open, and Edward just watched me intently.

"He must have really loved you," Alice supplied, her expression sympathetic. I smiled.

"He was like a second father to me. He watched me grow up. I don't have a single memory of a holiday celebration without him in it."

"That's amazing," Alice breathed.

"He taught me everything I know about coffee."

"Who taught you about baking?" she asked slyly. I blinked. How had she known I was the one who'd baked the cake?

"How did you-"

"Oh come on," she scoffed, smiling. "Give me some credit. When I saw you watching for my reaction to the cake, I knew you were the one who'd made it."

"I spent almost two months on that cake," I admitted sheepishly. "No one taught me to bake – it's just something else that I love to do." The waiter approached us then, and took our drink orders. I was surprised when I ordered a glass of the sauvignon blanc and both of my dinner companions did the same.

"So what other confections do you serve there?" Edward asked interestedly. It hadn't escaped my notice that he hadn't offered up a single bit of information about himself, other than his name.

"It depends." I shrugged. "Usually for breakfast I have a variety of muffins and scones – sometimes I'll make cake donuts. I always have some kind of chocolate dessert, because let's face it – coffee and chocolate go well together. I also have a few different varieties of cookies, because I do get the occasional parent with child in tow."

"I saw the snickerdoodles," Alice interjected. "They're my favorite kind of cookie, and it's hard to find them the way I like them – lots of cinnamon on the outside but gooey on the inside."

"The secret is to let the dough sit overnight," I said, leaning back slightly so the waiter could put my wine glass down in front of me. "They're my favorite kind of cookie, too."

"I'll have to try one tomorrow!" Alice squealed and clapped her hands together. I laughed and took a sip of my wine, trying to ignore the oddly intense look that Edward was shooting my way.

"So you cook, you love coffee, and you own your own business," he repeated. "What else should we know about you, Bella? Do you have an irate husband or boyfriend who is going to come storming in here and berate us for usurping all of your time this evening?" I nearly choked on the wine I was attempting to swallow. Irate? Berate? Usurp? Who the fuck talked like that? And why did it make me feel flushed all over that he wanted to know about a potential man in my life?

"Um, no," I answered lamely. Thank god I was saved from further grilling when the waiter returned to take our orders. Alice and I both ordered the Veal Marcello, and Edward ordered the butter and sage tortelloni. I was kind of gratified that they'd both taken my recommendations to heart.

"No man, then?" Edward asked as soon as the waiter was gone. I exhaled loudly.

"Don't you think that's a little personal?" I asked, meeting his eyes. He gave me a lopsided grin.

"And everything else we've been discussing isn't?"

"Touché," I sighed, fingering the bottom of my wine glass absently. "No. I don't have time for men."

"At all? Ever?" Alice squeaked.

"Not in the last two years," I confirmed.

"But… but _why?_" Alice looked horrified. I gave her a small smile.

"Because I've just got too much on my plate with the shop. And also, when you go on a date and a man finds out that you own your own business, it either intimidates the hell out of him, or makes him think you're going to work to support him while he sits on the couch at home and plays video games all day long." I turned at the sound of Edward's derisive snort.

"You sound like you have experience in that department."

"Unfortunately, I do. Not many men appreciate a strong woman who takes care of herself." I lifted my chin up a bit. I had always been proud of my ability to support myself without any help from anyone else. It meant that I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted.

"But don't you get lonely?" Alice asked, her eyes still trained on me. I shrugged.

"Of course."

"You don't… tell me you haven't gone without sex for that long," she demanded in a low whisper, scandalized. I laughed, but I could feel my face turning red. "Shit, Bella! I wouldn't last a week, let alone for two years!"

"Okay, I think I've heard enough about my baby sister's nymphomania," Edward laughed, though he looked genuinely chagrined. I mouthed a silent 'thank you' to him before taking a long pull from my wine glass. He chuckled softly.

"Well, just so you know about us," Alice began, "I met my Jasper when I was seven years old, and I knew right away that one day we would be married."

"Seven?" I asked incredulously. She grinned.

"We started dating when I was fifteen. He's two years older than me – the same age as Edward – and we've been inseparable ever since."

"When are you getting married?"

"In a month. I have so much to do! I still haven't found the perfect shoes, I need to find the perfect veil, I need a cake-" She stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at me, her eyes wide. "Bella! Will you make my wedding cake?"

"I've never done a wedding cake before," I hedged carefully, wanting to turn her down flat but not wanting to upset her. "I wouldn't know where to begin. Sorry, Alice." She wasn't deterred in the slightest.

"Oh, I know you would do a magnificent job! You could just make the sex cake, and it'd be the perfect opportunity to get some free publicity for your café! Please, Bella?" Damn it. Her puppy dog eyes were impossible to resist. I felt my resolve crumbling as the waiter placed our food in front of us. Edward laughed softly.

"I don't know what you find so amusing," I snapped, sighing. The grin he shot me was the same one that had threatened to melt my panties earlier.

"It's just good to know that Alice's charm isn't limited to working on her family members," he said, chuckling again. "I'm glad I'm not the only sucker in town anymore."

"You're funny," I remarked dryly. I turned my eyes back to Alice. "Fine, but when your wedding cake is a giant disaster, don't say you weren't warned." She squealed and reached across the table to hug me quickly before going back to her meal.

"This move is quickly turning out to be the best thing we've ever done," she said, glancing at Edward. He shrugged.

"So, Edward," I began, arching an eyebrow. "What is it that you do?"

"Lounge at home on the couch all day, playing video games." I frowned at him, my first bite of pasta frozen mid-way to my mouth.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"He's a musician," Alice supplied, rolling her eyes.

"And apparently a comic, too," I said, letting my eyes close as my mouth closed around my first forkful of food. When I opened my eyes, I saw green eyes watching me with an undecipherable look. I finished chewing and swallowed before I spoke again. "What kind of musician are you? Do you play an instrument, sing, or teach?"

"All three," Alice answered before he could. He shot her a dirty look, and I bit back a smile. Since he didn't seem to want to play twenty questions, Alice and I took over the conversation, which surprisingly flowed easily. I could easily see her becoming my closest friend – it was impossible not to like her.

When dinner was over and I had managed to convince the waiter to take my money (Alice kept trying to pay for it, but I refused), I stood and removed Edward's jacket from the chair. Alice retreated to the restroom, claiming that she'd had too much wine. I held his jacket out to him, and he just stared at it as though it was an alien.

"What?" he asked finally.

"Your jacket," I said slowly, as though I were speaking to a toddler. "I don't need it anymore –t he wine warmed me up, and I only live a door over," I pointed out. "Thank you for letting me wear it, though." He frowned.

"You'll need it when we go back outside in a moment. The temperature's dropped since we got in here."

"I'm next door," I repeated incredulously. "I think I can manage."

"Humor me," he said, shrugging. Alice came scurrying back before I could retort, and rather than make a scene over a stupid jacket, I pulled it back on. My giving in so easily had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I wanted to sniff the jacket again. Nothing at all.

They walked me back to the coffee shop, and I stopped at the door that led upstairs. Alice eyed it curiously.

"This is me," I said, feeling stupid for having stated the obvious.

"I would never have even noticed this door, if you hadn't pointed it out," she observed. "Is it like a loft apartment, or something?"

"Sort of, except that it's two floors," I explained, pulling off the chain I wore around my neck. There were three keys on it – one to my apartment, and two for the café. "Thank you both for dinner."

"Anytime!" Alice said, smiling. "So what time do you want me there tomorrow?"

"I open the doors at five thirty."

"In the morning?" she squeaked, looking down at the delicate silver watch on her wrist. It was currently eleven p.m.

"Yes," I answered, fitting the key in the lock and turning it. "I have lots of customers who come in for breakfast."

"When the hell do you sleep?" Edward asked suddenly. I frowned at him.

"I have nine and a half hours in between closing and opening," I pointed out. "That's plenty of time to sleep."

"Not tonight," Alice retorted. "You only have six hours now." I shrugged.

"I've had less sleep." I reached up and took Edward's coat off and handed it to him. "Thanks again for letting me borrow it."

"Don't worry about it," he said smoothly, pulling it back on.

"Well, goodnight," I said, feeling awkward. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Alice." She smiled and nodded.

"Good night, Bella." I opened the door and went inside, closing it quickly behind me without waiting for Edward to say anything. It was incredibly rude of me, but I'd had enough of the intense looks and snide comments to last for a while.

I took a quick shower and pulled my favorite pair of flannel pajamas on before slipping into bed. The only problem was that right before I closed my eyes, his green ones flashed in my mind. Suddenly I was wide awake. Fuck. Sleep was going to come slowly tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

As usual, I was up before my alarm clock decided to go off. I turned it off and stretched, inhaling the magnificent aroma of my favorite dark roasted coffee before taking a sip. You'd think that after spending nine years in a coffee shop, I'd get tired of the stuff – not so. I loved it now more than ever. In fact, if I went for longer than four hours without a cup of _something_ caffeinated, I got migraine headaches. I shrugged to myself – well, caffeine is a drug, and if it's the worst thing I could be addicted to, I'd take it.

I pulled on my standard work uniform – a plain white t-shirt and black slacks. By the end of the night, I would invariably have stains all over both. I went through white t-shirts like… well, I went through a lot of them.

I brushed my hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. Even secured high atop my head, the bottom of the ponytail still brushed the small of my back. I frowned. I loved having long hair, but I hated the feel of it on my neck, so I always wore it up – I also didn't enjoy the feel of a ponytail swishing around me. I sighed and wrapped the hair into a loose bun, securing it with a pair of enameled black chopsticks. Not for the first time, I wished I could braid worth a damn.

I slipped on my socks and my boots (Doc Martens were more practical than people seemed to realize, and besides, I liked the way they looked, and they boosted my confidence) and grabbed the chain that had my keys on it. i picked up the novel that I hadn't had time to open last night, thinking that I'd had a few minutes of respite during my lunch hour to read it, and jogged down the stairs. I locked the outer door to my apartment, then let myself into the café before slipping the chain over my head. I dropped the keys down inside my shirt – I didn't like to advertise that I carried the keys to my livelihood like that.

The first thing I did was turn on the stereo that piped through the café. I switched CDs and pressed play, then turned up the volume. I put a fresh tray of muffin batter into the oven, started up the regular and decaf coffees (for those customers who liked no-frills, fast coffee in the morning), and began pulling out other items that I needed to prep for the breakfast service.

_You make this all go away_

_You make this all go away_

_I'm down to just one thing_

_And I'm starting to scare myself_

I made sure that the napkin dispenser on the counter was full, and checked the sugar packets. I turned to start the pot of hot water boiling (for the customers who preferred tea) when something caught my eye. The tip jar where Edward had put his money for the espresso last night – I blinked before reaching in and pulling out a fifty dollar bill. I knew it was his, because I'd emptied the jar before he'd come in. why in the hell would he have given me an almost $47 tip? I rang up the espresso and pulled the change out of the drawer before slipping it into an envelope. I was going to get Alice to give it back to him first thing today.

"Fuck, isn't it too early for this depressing shit?" I jumped and turned around, scowling. "It's too early for Nine Inch Nails." He dropped down into a chair and fixed me with a pointed look. I watched as Alice bounced across the room, dressed very similar to me. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face when I saw her. Her answering smile was brilliant.

"It's never too early for NIN," I shot back, turning the volume down a little bit. "This CD helps get my blood pumping."

"Are you kidding? This is the slowest fucking song on the entire album. You really should start locking the door behind you, by the way," he said, frowning.

"Well, not everyone just barges in here," I said, giving him a pointed look. He had the good grace to look somewhat sheepish. Alice was focused on my every move, however, and had been watching me put together her latte. I handed it to her, and she inhaled deeply. "On the house. Employees get free drinks – as long as you don't take it to the extreme, like I do." I grinned. She clapped her hands.

"Oh my God," she said, taking a sip and moaning. Edward's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Come on," he huffed. "It can't be _that_ good."

"Are you trying to get a free cup of coffee out of my employer?" Alice asked, glaring at him. "This isn't Kindergarten, Edward – she's not going to give it to you if you call her chicken." I fingered the envelope that was in the front pocket of the light blue apron I'd tied around my waist.

"It's fine – he's paid for it already," I said, meeting his eyes as I began making another cup. I held his gaze just long enough to see his eyes darken, and then I went back to my work. "What in the hell are you both doing here so early, anyway?"

"You said you opened the doors at five thirty," Alice replied, her eyes still focused on my actions, even though she was still sipping her own drink.

"It's 4:45," I argued back.

"Alice figured you needed a certain amount of time in the morning to prep," Edward answered for her, shrugging. "I tried to argue with her, but obviously she was right – as much as I hate saying that out loud." Alice smiled without turning to look at him.

"That still doesn't explain why _you're_ here," I pointed out.

"I needed someone to drive me," Alice murmured distractedly. "Hey, you used skim milk in mine, but you're using whole milk in his – why?"

"I just got the feeling that Edward prefers to enjoy the taste of his coffee, rather than worry about the calories," I explained uneasily. Usually I wasn't so presuming when it came to my customers and how they liked their coffee, since I realized everyone's tastes were different, but with him… I don't know. I had an instinct, and I followed it. Alice's eyebrows shot up when I added whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles on top.

"Seriously?" I slid the mug across the counter, watching him intently as he crossed the floor to get it. When he took a sip and closed his eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to my work, ready to fill the glass dessert cabinet.

"Score one for the barista." His velvety voice made me pause for a moment, and my breathed hitched. I shook it off as best I could and went back to arranging small containers of two percent milk in the display.

"Let me do that," Alice demanded, stepping in front of me. I laughed ruefully and shook my head as she arranged the milk and small juice containers perfectly.

"You're bossy, did you know that?" I sighed exasperatedly.

"To a fault." Edward smirked as he sipped his coffee.

"You're not going to make me regret hiring you, are you?" I asked, my hands on my hips. Before she could answer, the timer on the oven buzzed loudly in the kitchen. I turned to go stop it, but Alice had whizzed past me before I could take a step.

"I'll get it," she sing-songed. I stared after her, dumbstruck. I turned when I heard rich laughter erupt behind me.

"Should I expect more of the same every day?" I asked him, my eyes wide. He tried to hide his amusement by taking a long pull of his coffee, and then he nodded.

"Worse. She's usually in a better mood in the morning." He slapped his leg and howled with laughter at the way my eyes bugged out of my head. "I suspect that once she's had a chance to adjust to the sleep schedule, she'll be back to her normal, perky self in no time."

"Fuck," I breathed, dropping into the chair across from him and dropping my face into my hands. "I'm not sure I can take it." I looked up to see that his laughter had faded, and that he was regarding me through narrowed eyes. "Shit, I didn't mean to offend you," I started, straightening up and shaking my head. "I didn't mean it that way, I just meant-"

"Calm down, Bella," he said finally, his voice sounding strained. He shook his head dismissively. "I know you didn't mean it like that. You're a total control freak and you're having trouble letting go and not taking care of every detail yourself." I felt my mouth drop open, and his panty-melting smirk didn't help.

"How-"

"Takes one to know one," was all he said. He finished off the last of his drink and sat the mug down on the table, tracing the handle with one long, slender finger. I fought back the shudder that threatened, wondering idly how that finger would feel on my skin. What the fuck? I shook myself, trying to shake off the errant thought. "How did you know I'd like the coffee this way?"

"Um," I floundered, stalling for time. How the fuck did I answer a question like that, when I didn't even know why I'd done it? "Lucky guess?" I hedged. He looked up at me through the fringe of his obscenely long eyelashes, and I could feel my breath catch in my chest.

"You just happened to guess that I liked my coffee with whole milk, instead of skim milk? How many people come into this shop and ask for whole milk in their coffee, Bella?"

"A few," I answered truthfully, finally tugging my eyes away from his and glancing out the window. It was still dark outside, and the dim lighting in the café that usually relaxed me was actually making me nervous. Last year I'd had the brilliant idea to drape strings of white Christmas lights from the ceiling (the ones that look like icicles), and I'd liked them so much, I left them up as a year-round thing. Around six p.m. every evening, I turned down the house lights and let the Christmas lights serve as the mood lighting. I'd gotten tons of compliments on it –especially from dating couples who really enjoyed the way it lent to the ambiance of the whole place. Right now, though, the dim lighting was making me feel uneasy, because I couldn't see his eyes to discern what kind of looks he was giving me.

"And what kind of milk do you use in your coffee?" The question was phrased innocently enough, but I knew what he was getting at, and pursed my lips together. His velvet laughter washed over me, and I stood abruptly.

"You liked it," I pointed out, scooping his empty mug off of the table. "So you can stop laughing at me now." I ignored his laughter (which was louder as I walked away) and dumped his mug into the sink full of warm, soapy water I'd run this morning in preparation for washing the muffin tins. I exhaled noisily and turned to see Alice perusing the pre-filled muffin tins that were adjusting to room temperature before baking.

"What's what, here?" She asked, glancing at me. I moved towards her, grateful for something else to talk about besides her infuriating, beautiful brother.

"Banana nut, blueberry, strawberry, and bran," I said, pointing to each tray in turn. "And what you just took out of the oven was cinnamon streusel."

"I figured that," she said, smiling. "They smell so good!"

"They're my favorite," I admitted, grinning. "Cinnamon in almost any form is a weakness of mine."

"Is that why you have this ginormous supply of cinnamon sticks?" Alice asked, pointing to the shelf where several sealed bags of cinnamon sticks sat. My grin widened and I nodded.

"I offer them during the colder months with teas and hot cider. You'd be surprised how many people love them. I have customers who come in here specifically because I offer them with their drinks – it's funny to watch people use them as straws, spoons for whipped cream, or just suck on them." I didn't divulge the fact that I did that quite often myself – I loved the damned things.

"Do you ever offer other food items?" She asked, her eyes taking on a determined glint. "Other than baked goods, I mean."

"No, why?"

"Maybe you should," she said, shrugging. "French toast uses cinnamon, right? And it wouldn't take long to make. If you offered a sit-down meal, more people would stay, and the longer they stay in the shop, the more coffee they'd probably buy. More coffee sold equals more money for Bella."

"Yes, but doing that would require me to hire a few more people," I hedged. "I'd need a chef, and another person for dishes, and probably someone else out there to watch the counter and make the coffee."

"What's wrong with Edward?" she asked suddenly. I blinked at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Hire Edward. He could do _something_ to help you, I'm sure. And I could help you find another person. You're severely understaffed, Bella. You need help. I can't imagine that you have any semblance of a social life, with as much as you're required to be here."

"If Edward can really play an instrument and sing, he'd be better suited for our live entertainment night," I said hesitantly. I wasn't sure I could handle being around him for extended amounts of time without my inner monologue making itself known. "But you're right, I probably do need to break down and hire more people," I sighed resignedly.

"So," she said, abruptly changing the subject, "these go in the oven at what temperature, and for how long?"

I became so absorbed with training Alice that I'd completely forgotten about her brother. When five thirty rolled around, she bounded out and flipped the sign from 'closed' to 'open.' Almost immediately the customers began to trickle in. I was able, for the first time, to actually greet my customers and prepare their drinks without having to run back and forth to the kitchen to check on whatever baked goods I'd decided to offer that day. Alice was a blessing with spiky hair and an infectious smile. She was all over the shop – talking to customers, wiping down tables, carting dirty dishes to the kitchen, restocking the baked goods in the display case. It was the least stressful day I could remember having in a long time.

Around eleven, I told Alice that I was going to go to the bathroom, and then she could either take lunch or go home, whatever suited her for her first day, since Angela (a local college student and faithful employee for two years now) was coming in at noon. When I returned to the counter, I saw Edward standing across the bar from his sister. He was frowning, and whatever discussion they were having was being conducted in hushed voices. I cleared my throat, and Alice turned to flash a brilliant smile at me.

"What the motherfuck are you still doing here?" I blurted, unable to control my word vomit as I openly gaped at Edward. The corners of his mouth turned up and he barked out a surprised laugh.

"I'm taking you to lunch, apparently." He extended a hand to me, which I stared at as though it was some kind of alien entity that would impregnate me with its little alien demon spawn. I finally turned to glare at Alice, but she was busy helping a customer. I turned to see Angela approaching, and she grinned at me before nodding towards the harpy behind the counter.

"New employee? I'm proud of you, Bella!" Her eyes landed on Edward, and I watched as they widened to comic proportions. "Is this your boyfriend?" If I'd been drinking, I would've choked. As it was, I started coughing and shaking my head. Edward thumped me on the back and grinned at Angela.

"No, just a friend. I'm here to take boss lady out to lunch. Think you and my sister can hold down the fort?"

"Absolutely," she said, grinning. Her eyes kept darting between the two of us. I wanted to strangle someone.

"What the hell are you doing here so early?" I finally managed. Angela shrugged.

"Class let out early, and I thought you could probably use a break."

"Well, looky there," the harpy chimed in. "I'm not the only one who thinks Bella needs some time away from this place. Edward, take her away. Angela, I'm Alice. I think we're going to be great friends. Ooh, I love your shoes!"

"Right?" Angela smiled, stashing her purse and coat beneath the counter. "And I only paid five dollars for these."

"Where? I'm still looking for shoes for my wedding dress!"

"There's a ton of vintage stores down the strip," Angela said, gesturing outside.

"We should totally go together sometime!" Alice squealed and began clapping her hands. She turned to me. "Bella, would-" I grabbed Edward's arm and yanked him towards the front door.

"Sorry – lunch!" Once we got outside onto the sidewalk, I released him and sighed, letting my forehead drop forward onto the brick wall. "Fuck, that was close."

"What the hell?" He asked, snickering. I looked up, confused by his expression. His eyes were wide and the pupils were huge, but he was smirking.

"Sorry, but you presented the perfect excuse to get out of there. If there's anything I absolutely fucking loathe, it's shopping for clothes."

"Seriously? Why?"

"Hey, Bella – Alice wants to-" Angela had poked her head out the front door, but as soon as she spoke, I grabbed Edward's arm and took off walking as quickly as I could.

"Sorry, Ang – late for a reservation," I called over my shoulder. Edward snorted and let me drag him for a block. Once we turned the corner and were out of sight, I relaxed slightly and released him. My stomach growled – loudly – to let me know how displeased it was that I hadn't fed it anything other than coffee today. Edward laughed, his voice rich and deep. I wanted to clock him across that stupid chiseled jaw of his. "What, you never get hungry?"

"I just think it's funny that you basically told Alice that you didn't need to take a lunch, and here you are with me, obviously hungry. Why the hell did you lie?"

"Are you shitting me?" I demanded incredulously. "You can _not_ stand there and tell me that you don't realize that your sister is trying to matchmake with us."

"Of course I realize it," he replied easily, shrugging. "She does it all the time to me. I'm immune."

"Bullshit," I called. "If I had a meddling, matchmaking Tinkerbell trying to fix me up all the time, I'd kill her." I thought for a moment, then added, "sooner rather than later, too." He laughed again.

"Trust me, you get used to it after a while. Look, while we're out, why don't we go ahead and eat? I haven't had anything besides that cinnamon streusel muffin this morning, and I'm starving." I blinked at him.

"You ate one of my muffins?" Fuck, that sounded dirty. The arch of his eyebrows told me he'd thought so, too. "When did you do that?"

"Shortly after you showed Alice around the kitchen. You were back there doing something, and I bought one."

"You bought one? Why the hell would you do that?" I realized I was still wearing my apron. I untied it and pulled it off, then pulled the envelope out of the pocket and pushed it up against his chest. When I let go of it, he grabbed it and looked blankly at me.

"What is this?"

"The change left over from your fifty after your espresso last night and latte this morning." His eyes went from confused, to understanding, to angry.

"Why are you giving me this? It was a _tip_," he stressed, trying to shove the envelope back towards me. I sidestepped him. "Do you give everyone's tips back to them?"

"No, but usually tips are earned, and they're never that big."

"I gave you the damned tip for several reasons – one, I scared the hell out of you, and I felt bad. Two, we shared similar tastes in music, and trust me, for me that's rare – to talk to someone who actually likes the same music, instead of just pretending they like it in order to get close to me. And three, because you were exceedingly kind to me by letting me stay and making me coffee on top of it, despite the fact that you were closed and very clearly exhausted – so take the goddamned money, you stubborn woman!"

I stared at him, watching as his eyes sparked and his chest heaved with angry breaths. He held the envelope out to me, and I shook my head mutely. He released a sound that could only be described as a growl, and advanced on me. I stepped backwards, only realizing my mistake when I felt my back press up against a cold brick wall. He closed the distance between us before I could think, and the next thing I knew, he was shoving the envelope down into the front pocket of my jeans. My eyes may or may not have rolled back in my head, and I prayed that the low moan I felt at the back of my throat hadn't been audible to him. When he pulled away, I refused to meet his eyes with my own, choosing instead to clear my throat and focus on the Mexican restaurant across the street. Okay, so it was more of a Mexican food stand than a restaurant, but suddenly I had a severe craving for it.

"Fine, then lunch is on me."

He followed me wordlessly as I practically ran across the street like the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. I didn't even wait to see what he wanted, and ordered the same thing for both of us.

"Two carne azada burritos," I said. "Both with rice, and two large Cokes." Shit, this was awkward. Usually I didn't have to do awkward with a guy until after we'd done the mattress mambo… and that had been a while ago. I didn't even have what I was sure would be the extreme pleasure of dancing with Edward. I paid for our lunch with Edward's money – which made me feel lower than low, by the way, but the way I justified it was that he was actually paying for my lunch, since he'd asked me to eat with him, and all. Yeah – I'm pretty good at rationalizing bad behavior, when I wanna be. I moved down the line and took the food from the woman who handed it to me. Just as I was beginning to wonder how the hell I was supposed to carry the drinks, Edward's arm reached around from behind me, and he grabbed them. I took the food over to one of the many concrete tables and sat on one side of it.

"Are you ever going to look at me again?" He wondered aloud, reaching for his burrito and Styrofoam cup of rice. He passed my drink over to me.

"Not if I can help it," I mumbled, taking an abnormally large bite of my burrito. He snorted.

"Look," he began. I glanced up for a millisecond – just in time to see him run long fingers through his bronze locks – then my eyes were trained back on my food. "I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries, or make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted you to take the damned money. You make it really hard to be nice to you, do you know that? You frustrate the hell out of me. I never know what you're going to say or do next, and it's driving me crazy." I finished chewing and swallowed my mouthful of food.

"You've known me all of fourteen hours, and you weren't even around me for all of that time," I pointed out, finally looking up. He gave me a lopsided grin. "I've managed to frustrate you and drive you crazy in less than that?"

"Yes," he said emphatically. I narrowed my eyes at him as he took a sip of his Coke.

"You're not exactly easy to be around, either," I informed him. "Why would you want to know what anyone's going to say or do next, anyway? Seems like that'd be boring – knowing what people are going to say or do next." His grin widened as he reached for his burrito and unwrapped it.

"Yeah, but usually I can get a pretty good fix on someone's personality pretty quickly. You, not so much." He took a bite of his burrito, and I forced my eyes away when he licked some errant cheese off of his lip. I focused on making my breathing normal instead. I was a total and utter failure. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it, but I was pretty sure I was in hell. When he sucked some melted cheese off of his fingers, I was absolutely positive I was, because why else would it feel so hot out here?

"So, Bella," he said after he'd inhaled half of his food. "What else is there to do around here? Besides eat and drink coffee, I mean."

"Um," I replied, like the rocket scientist that I am. "There's a couple of bars down there," I said, gesturing further down the street. "Some have dance floors. Some have karaoke nights. There's a couple of music shops down at the other end of the street. Oh, and there's a little book store down that way," I said, pointing down the street that intersected with this one. "The book store is amazing. Embry – that's the owner – can get you just about any book you want."

"Sounds like you're pretty familiar with it."

"I'm in there at least once a week," I admitted, scooping some rice up in my plastic spoon.

"What are you reading right now?"

"Why do you need to know that?" I asked cautiously, eyeing him. He chuckled.

"Jesus, Bella. I'm just curious. You like my favorite band, you like the same coffee, you like the same spicy food," he said, gesturing towards said food with obscenely beautiful, long fingers. "I just wondered if we enjoyed the same authors, or genres, or whatever else." I swallowed a mouthful of Coke and sighed. He was right. If nothing else, it might be nice to have someone to talk music and books to, right? Couldn't hurt, since no one else I knew liked the same shit as me.

"I'm actually reading Beautiful Losers," I admitted, playing with my straw. His lips parted and he studied me for a full minute before saying anything.

"I fucking _love_ Leonard Cohen," he breathed.

"You've read it, then?" I asked, trying to ignore the tingling that his admission had evoked in my long neglected girly-bits.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and reached for his Coke, which he promptly drained. I finished my rice and then drank the rest of my Coke.

"I should probably be getting back," I said, more to myself than him. I got up and tossed my trash in the waste can, watching as he did the same.

"Mumford & Sons, Nine Inch Nails, Leonard Cohen," he mused aloud as we walked. He shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets. "Do you have any other musical proclivities that I should know about?"

"Okay, seriously, what the fuck, dude? Do you just memorize random words from the dictionary and use them to make yourself sound like you're better educated than the rest of the general public, or something?" He grinned.

"Why? Don't you think I _am_ educated?"

"I have no doubt, but who the hell goes around actually _using_ all of the big words they know? Don't you think that's a little pretentious?" His smile threatened to break his face in two, it was so big.

"Says the girl using the word pretentious."

"Whatever," I scoffed. After a minute, when we were almost to the door of the coffee shop, I finally added "Tori Amos." He blinked at me.

"Ah."

"I can't help it. I have a weakness for piano-driven girl rock. I guess gender isn't a huge deal though, since I'm going to marry Ben Folds and have his children someday too." His face turned red and he tried valiantly not to laugh. He failed miserably.

"That personal note aside," he said, trying to mask his laughter as a coughing fit, "I actually enjoy a little bit of both. Not to the extent that you do – I tend to lean more towards the bluesy side of things – but I dabble here and there."

"I'm sure you do," I agreed, not really wanting to know how much more I had in common with him. "I'm gonna get back in there and see how much damage they did while I was gone. Thanks for lunch – it was… nice."

"Thanks for the enthusiasm," he laughed.

"Yeah. Well, you can take Alice with you, if you want, since I have Angela here until seven. I don't want to wear her out on her first day."

"Are you kidding? She's totally in her element. She loves it."

"It is kind of nice to have someone here with me in the morning," I admitted hesitantly. "Although I will vehemently deny that if you ever tell her." He laughed, and not for the first time, I noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he did. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, and I panicked. "Okay – see you later." I turned and hightailed it into the café.

"Bella, you're back early," Alice said, frowning. She looked around. "Where's my brother?"

"Outside waiting on you."

"Oh. Okay." She looked disappointed as she removed the apron I'd given her this morning. "Well, I'm going to go spend some time with Jazz. Same time tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. Thanks for coming in today." Her responding smile was enormous.

"No problem whatsoever. I loved it! I can't wait for tomorrow!" and then she was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was nice and all, but now that she was gone, I could finally get back to my routine – which meant peace and quiet.

The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully, for which I was grateful. Angela left at seven fifteen, promising me that she'd be back tomorrow at four. Tomorrow was Friday, which was predictably one of my shop's busiest days. We opened at the same time, but we didn't close until midnight. You'd be surprised by the amount of clientele we got at eleven on a Friday night. Thank god we didn't open on Saturdays until eight – I think I'd shoot myself if it were any earlier.

I turned the sign from 'open' to 'closed' and went back behind the bar. Angela had already done the majority of the dishes, bless her heart, so I finished up the few that were left and then grabbed a wash cloth. I reached for the stack of CDs I kept next to the stereo, popped in a new one, and turned the volume way up. I began wiping down all of the tables in the place, and then went behind the counter to start cleaning up there. As always, the music took over and helped me zone out and get the job done faster. I sang along and moved my body to the beat as I cleaned.

_I, I wish you could swim_

_Like the dolphins_

_Like the dolphins can swim_

"You're a Bowie fan, too?" I screamed and dropped the rag, spinning to face him. His arms were crossed over his chest, and I wanted to smack the smirk right off of his stupid handsome face.

".fuck." I growled.

"I figured you could use some company," he said, shrugging. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about what you'd be listening to tonight – especially in light of our conversation this afternoon." I gaped at him.

"Don't you have a life? Why do you keep popping up here? Christ, go get a beer- get laid, or something." He laughed.

"Who says I haven't already?"

I turned down the volume a little bit and took a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart. It didn't work. That made two nights in a row that that fucker had literally almost made me wet my pants. I didn't trust myself to speak again yet, so instead I did something that I knew would calm me – I started prepping a drink. I decided that he looked like he needed a peppermint mocha – probably mostly so I could justify making myself one, too – so I made it. He watched in silence as I put the finishing touches on – whipped cream topped with crushed candy cane bits. I pushed his towards him and took a careful drink of mine. He frowned down at the cup.

"I don't like mint."

"Just try it, jackass," I ordered, rolling my eyes. "I hate mint, too, but I love these. Trust me."

He gave me a look that could best be described as dubious, but he lifted the cup. He sniffed gingerly and I snorted, putting my cup down to begin cleaning the machines. He took a drink, and suddenly I knew that it must be hereditary, because he let loose with a porno moan that was reminiscent of the one Alice had been voicing all day. I froze, my hand in midair. I could _feel_ the drool pooling in my mouth. It was suddenly unbearably hot in here.

"Fuck," I breathed softly. His eyes shot to mine and immediately widened. I don't know what he saw on my face, but it was enough to make his smirk appear.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Do your parents do that too?" I blurted. He looked confused. "That – that _porn_ moan you and Alice do when you like the way something tastes." His eyelids went to half mast, and I spontaneously ovulated. The man was freaking gorgeous.

"I can do better than that, if I really like the taste of something." My throat went dry. He gave me a secretive smile that probably wasn't promising long, drugging kisses and cool sheets, but goddamn if my mind didn't go there anyway. I felt like a bitch in heat. "This is actually really good."

"Yeah, I know." I finally managed to snap myself out of it and finish cleaning the machines, though I'm ashamed to say that my hands shook the entire time.

"You have an incredible knack for knowing exactly what I like," he continued, his voice full of amusement. Cocky fucker. I didn't realize I'd spoken the words out loud until I saw his eyebrows shoot up and his smile widen. "Interesting combination of words, madam barista."

"Shut the hell up and get out of my café," I snapped, though I knew he'd hear the lack of venom behind my words. He just laughed and sat down at one of the tables.

"I was actually wondering if you'd like to grab some dinner with me," he said, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. My head jerked up, and I stared at him.

"Dinner?" I repeated dumbly. He nodded.

"Not as a date," he amended quickly. I relaxed a little, though truthfully I was a little stung, too. Why didn't he want to go on a date with me? Fuck! Why did I even fucking care?

"Why would you wait so late to eat?" I wondered aloud, turning the music off and dropping the wash cloth into the bucket under the counter.

"After lunch, I wound up having a second lunch with my brother. I was stuffed when it was time for dinner – Jasper, Emmett, and Alice all went out without me. I took a nap."

"Um," I breathed, trying to stall for time. I went and switched off all the lights before coming back out into the dining area. "Yeah, I could eat." My traitorous stomach chose that moment to gurgle angrily. He grinned, and I shrugged. I hadn't had time for dinner. "Where were you thinking?"

"You tell me," he shot back. "I've only lived here for four days. I'm not really familiar with the territory yet. Is there anything else good within walking distance, besides Italian and Mexican?"

"Of course – it just depends on what mood you're in and how much you want to spend."

"Cost really isn't an issue, and I was really hoping for a good burger." I nodded and motioned him to the front door. I stepped out into the cold with him and pulled the chain off of my neck, locked the door, and replaced the chain.

"I know just the place." I led him five blocks down. His steps faltered when he saw me open the door. "What?"

"That's a _bar_, Bella. Not a restaurant."

"Don't turn into a stick in the mud on me, Cullen," I sighed. "Trust. I haven't steered you wrong in the last twenty four hours, have I?" He shook his head and followed me inside. I went straight to the bar.

"Bells!" Jake thundered. I grinned at him. God, he really was good looking. Not insanely hot like Edward, but definitely not someone I would've kicked out of bed.

"When the hell did you start working here?" I asked, taking a seat at the bar and motioning for Edward to do the same.

"Last week."

"Still working the gig at Lentini's?"

"Hell yeah. I'm saving up, remember? Don't worry, I'll bring the usual by tomorrow."

"And I'll have your usual ready," I laughed. "Hey, Jake, this is my new friend, Edward. Edward, this is Jake." I watched as they did the usual guy thing and nodded to each other. I rolled my eyes. "We need two cheeseburgers and a basket of fries."

"Sure thing. Drinks?"

"MGD draft," I said. He nodded and went back to tell Sam, the cook, our order. I turned to Edward, who was gaping openly at me. "What?"

"A woman who likes the taste of beer?"

"I'm not the only one," I scoffed.

"Maybe not, but you're the only one I've ever come across."

"You can't eat a burger without a beer. It's an unwritten rule somewhere. Anyway, I hope you don't mind splitting the fries with me – they only come in a one pound basket."

"A pound of fries?"

"This place has the best of both worlds," I said, shrugging. "The burgers are amazing, they don't over charge, and the beer is nice and cold." Jake reappeared and set us up with said beers before attending to another customer. I took a deep pull of the liquid, enjoying the way the flavor coated my tongue. I think I'd finished half of it before Edward had even gotten a sip in. I smirked at him. "Don't tell me you can't hold your liquor."

"I can hold it just fine," he said defensively. I rolled my eyes.

"Sure." We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the random sounds of the bar. My eyes were glued to the television that was on the wall in front of us – they were talking about the upcoming weekend football games and making their picks. I frowned when I saw that two of the four sports personalities had picked the Cardinals over my beloved Steelers. "Fuck you, you morons," I breathed, shaking my head.

"Come again?"

"Asshole. He's just got a vendetta against the Steelers because they always kicked his ass when he was actually playing." When Edward didn't respond, I glanced over at him. He was giving me the same look he'd given me earlier, when we'd been talking about books. "What?"

"Football too?" he croaked, his voice cracking just a little bit. I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You like football, too?" he clarified.

"Like football?" Jake interjected, reaching for a mug. His teeth were so white, they almost glowed in the dim lighting of the bar. "Bella is a maniac when it comes to football. She's more into it than most of the men I know. Too bad she roots for the wrong team."

"Jake, don't fuck with me tonight, I mean it," I warned him. He grinned at me as he filled the mug with Bud Light from the tap.

"You can't help it if you're uneducated."

"Fuck you! Your fucking precious Lions have yet to win a game against my boys," I snarled. His grin widened, and he turned to Edward.

"How big of a turn-on is that? You'd better hang on with both hands, pal. You're in for the ride of your life." The bastard shot a wink at me before moving away to deliver the drink. I took another drink of my own beer, scowling into the mug.

"Ignore him," I ordered, finally turning to Edward. He was watching me intently, like he was afraid I would attack him, or some shit. "Hey, you okay? I'm not _really_ mad. He just knows what buttons to push."

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Sam showed up with our food. I opened my burger and piled on the pickles that had been on the side, then put the lettuce on top, and covered it with the top bun. I glanced over at Edward to see that he'd done the same thing with his. Our eyes met and we both cracked a smile at the same time. I turned my attention back to my food, letting my eyes drift to the television as I ate.

I reached for a fry, and my hand collided with his. I ignored the shock of electricity that jolted up my arm at the contact, and narrowed my eyes at him. "Trying to steal my fry, Cullen?"

"You wish, Swan," he fired back. "This is really good, by the way. I'll have to bring Emmett here soon – though not with you around, since he's a huge Ravens fan."

"I dislike him already," I pronounced. Edward chuckled.

"Just yanking your chain. He's a die-hard Seahawks fan."

"Only marginally better, but I'll take it. I bet he's a sad bastard right now – Jackson is going to get shitcanned before the end of the season. They're 2-6." I shoved another fry into my mouth before meeting his eyes. His hand was frozen with a fry halfway to his parted lips, and his eyes were hooded again.

"Fuck, that's hot," he said softly. I felt my eyebrows knitting together, and turned to look behind me to see what he meant. When I turned back around, he was still staring.

"I didn't see anything."

"You really don't, do you?" he murmured, finally pushing the fry into his mouth. I stared for a minute, confused, before I decided to drain the last of my beer. As soon as the empty mug hit the table, Jake appeared in front of us, almost like magic.

"Ready for another?"

"Hit me," I said, slapping the bar lightly. He grinned and took my empty glass, replacing it a few seconds later with a fresh one. I wound up polishing off three beers before I had to excuse myself to the restroom. I came back out just in time to see Edward sliding money across the bar to Jake, and I rushed back up to the bar.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, watching as he finished off the last of his second beer.

"Paying for dinner."

"Why?"

"Because businesses tend to get a little bit pissed off if you don't pay after eating," he clarified, motioning for Jake to keep the change he'd been about to hand him.

"You know what I meant. Why did you pay for me?"

"I paid for you?" he echoed, feigning shock. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Don't think this is the last you'll hear of this," I warned him. I turned on my heel and marched out of the bar. His laughter followed me all the way outside, and I huffed noisily, my breath creating a white puff in the cold night air. Before my body even had a chance to react to the chill, Edward had wrapped his jacket around me. Déjà vu.

"You were very … _entertaining_ tonight," he began, as we walked back towards the café. "The least I could do was buy you a burger and a beer. It was fun – I hope you'll let me do it again sometime." I tried valiantly to hold on to my indignation, but it was a slippery bastard. I sighed.

"Thanks. I guess I'm just not very good at accepting generosity."

"No," he said, clutching a hand to his chest. I smacked his arm, and he laughed. "You are borderline abusive, do you know that, Swan? First the name calling, then the fry stealing, and now the hitting? Shit."

"Well, you voluntarily put yourself within hitting proximity more than once today," I pointed out. "So what does that make you?"

"Eager for the abuse," he sighed, batting his eyelashes at me. I couldn't help it; I laughed. When he moved closer to me while still fluttering his eyes at me, I laughed louder and gently shoved him.

"God, you're insane! You have absolutely no tolerance whatsoever. Next time, I'm cutting you off at one beer." He grinned, and I felt my knees weaken a little bit. Oh, hell. Thank god we walked in silence until we reached my door. I handed his jacket back to him and pulled the chain from around my neck. He watched as I slid my key into the lock and turned it.

"Seriously, thank you for tonight," I said, smiling at him. "I hadn't been down there in a while – it was fun."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, his soft smile igniting a fire low in my belly.

"Um, I guess I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, Alice has roped me into driving her here again."

"Why is that, by the way? Why not drive herself?" He shrugged.

"That's just Alice. I've learned over the years not to ask questions. It's safer that way." I laughed and shook my head.

"Well… see you tomorrow." He nodded and took a few steps backwards.

"Goodnight, Bella." And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**_sorry this chapter is a little bit shorter. Edward speaks to me differently in this story than Bella does- hopefully you will all understand why and enjoy him anyway. :) thanks for all the reviews, I love reading them._**

I'd been gung-ho for this move for two years before it actually happened.

My best friend from high school was engaged to my baby sister – well, who hadn't seen _that_ coming? They'd been together forever. They were ready to move and start a life of their own, somewhere away from Washington. My parents hadn't loved the idea, but they'd understood it. I was going to miss them both. Jasper was my boy, and we hung out all the time. He and Alice were joined at the hip, but more often than not, I was also included in their plans.

It only made sense that when Alice had suggested that I move with them, that I said okay.

And then Emmett had decided that he didn't want to lose his business partner, and he'd started looking up rental properties in all of the areas Jasper and Alice had been looking at.

The decision on where they actually wanted to go was made when Emmett laid eyes on the seventeenth rental property that Alice pulled up on the computer. One look at his open mouth and glazed eyes, and Alice was bouncing around, clapping like a fool. Twenty minutes later, when my brother was still staring at the screen, I decided to see what the fuss was about. My eyes scanned the screen, seeing nothing too out of the ordinary. It was a brownstone, two-stories, and looked like it had been built around the turn of the century. It was actually kind of amazing, I thought, the longer I looked at it.

Then my eyes lit on the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, on the photo of the realtor handling the property, and my eyebrows shot up. Alice was either a master schemer or blind – I didn't know which. Emmett was _not_ enthralled with the property – he was drooling over the fucking realtor.

It was just a headshot, but damn. Her long, blonde hair fell in waves around her face and down over her shoulders, and her eyes – shit, they had to be contacts, because no one had _violet_ fucking eyes, right? Her plump lips were a glossy fire-engine red. I tugged my eyes away from the screen and looked at my big brother, who was eye-fucking the woman's photo. I snorted and left him alone, worried that he might whip it out in front of me, given how badly he was shaking.

It didn't surprise me when Emmett emerged from the office twenty minutes later and announced that he wanted to move to Kentucky. He said it would be the best location for several reasons, and promptly named them off – the Kentucky Derby being one of his top 5. I shrugged. Change was change, and if I didn't like it, I'd move somewhere else. I didn't think I'd actually stay there very long after Jas and Alice got married; I knew they'd want to start a family and shit.

Mom and Dad had thrown us a huge going-away party. My ex-girlfriend Tanya was even in attendance. Alice tried her best to keep the octopus away from me all night, but she managed to get loose and searched me out. I think when she cornered me in the kitchen, she thought we'd be having some kind of kinky 'I'll miss you' sex in there, but fuck, I couldn't stand her! I couldn't figure out why I'd stuck my dick in her in the first place, let alone carry on a conversation about anything worth talking about. I'd hightailed it the fuck out of there and locked myself in the bathroom until she left.

The trip to Kentucky was largely uneventful – except for fucking Illinois, which was so flat and boring that we spent four days trying to drive through it. Seriously, there was nothing to break up the drive; no matter how many times we switched, the drivers inevitably began to fall asleep, so we kept stopping. Once we hit Indiana, all Emmett would talk about was the Indianapolis 500, and that fucker went on for hours. We stopped in Indianapolis just to shut him the hell up, but it didn't work and he just got more whipped up instead. Apparently our destination in Kentucky was only two hours away from Indianapolis, and he was all excited about actually being able to go instead of just watching it on TV.

When we finally reached Kentucky, I was ready to slit my wrists. I was so fucking tired of hearing my sister and her future husband coo at each other in the damned car – I was seriously contemplating the logistics of throwing myself from the moving vehicle. We couldn't get to the hotel fast enough. When Jas pulled in, I jumped out before he'd hit the brake fully, and ran inside. I'm sure the clerk thought I was a pushy fucker when I kept telling him to get the show on the goddamned road, but I finally got the card key and went to my room. I left my shit on the floor, changed, and went in search of the hotel pool, praying to God that it was unoccupied.

Finally some good luck – it was empty, and I was able to swim off some serious pent-up stress. It wasn't my preferred stress reliever, but it did the job well enough. The four of us met back up to have dinner at a nearby restaurant, which was sub-par, but we were all hungry so we ate like wolves. I don't think we spoke a single word to each other while there was food on the table.

The next day was a Tuesday, and Emmett and Jasper had an appointment with the realtor to talk about the brownstone. They were also going to mention the fact that we needed a place to live, and hoped that she had something in the way of houses to show them. Alice begged me to take her sightseeing, but I refused. I spent almost the whole day in the pool again.

Wednesday morning, Alice got tired of waiting for me to take her out, and went out herself. Jasper and Emmett were going to sign the papers for the brownstone (fastest closing on a property _ever_, I thought with no small amount of amusement), which meant I'd be left alone for a while longer. After a few hours, Alice returned to the hotel in raptures about some little hole in the wall coffee joint she'd discovered not too far from where Emmett and Jasper's law office was going to be. She said the woman who worked there had even offered her a job. If I knew Alice, though (and I absolutely fucking did), the woman hadn't _offered_ her a job, she'd been pressganged into giving her one.

Alice just would not shut the fuck up about some stupid cake she'd had at the coffee shop.

"It's almost as good as having an orgasm," she'd explained, making me spit out the mouthful of soda I'd been about to swallow.

"I do _not_ want to hear my baby sister talking about orgasms, or anything to do with sex, for that matter," I'd told her angrily. Then she'd insisted on the two of us going out for dinner, stating that Emmett and Jasper were going to be out late and would I really leave my baby sister alone _again_? I finally agreed, and when the time came, I drove downtown in the general direction she'd told me to. The only problem was that I'd forgotten which block she'd said the restaurant was on, so I parked and got out to start walking. I'd been walking around for about ten minutes when I noticed a small café with its lights on. I pushed the door open (I hadn't even seen the sign on the door that said the shop was closed) and went in.

_.Fuck me._

Behind the stainless steel counter was a woman, swinging her hips back and forth in time with one of my favorite fucking songs as she wiped down the counter. Her chocolate brown hair was piled on top of her head in a loose bun, and I could see (even though she had her back to me) little wisps hanging loose around her face and the back of her neck. Her body – oh, _fuck_ – she was wearing a fitted white t-shirt that showed off her shapely back and her small waist. Below that was a small sliver of skin (shit, think baseball stats or something, and do that shit _quick_, because I could feel my erection beginning to strain against my zipper) just above the waist of her low-rise jeans. She had an hourglass fucking figure, my favorite music playing, and the prettiest goddamn hair I'd ever seen. I was almost afraid to see her face – because if she was fugly, I was going to be disappointed. If she was even the slightest bit attractive, I might thrown her down on the counter and have my way with her as soon as she turned around.

I didn't know whether to say something or not, but in the next moment, the choice was taken out of my hands. She turned around, saw me, and screamed. I was frozen to the spot. I shouldn't have worried about her face – she was gorgeous. Drop-dead fucking _gorgeous_. Huge chocolate brown eyes were framed by thick black lashes, and her mouth was a perfect pink cupid's bow. She made a plain white t-shirt look scandalous, the way it hugged her chest – I was jealous of a fucking piece of cotton! _Jesus_.

And then on top of all that, she was _nice_. She made me the best damn espresso I'd ever tasted – though I had to wonder if she was this nervous all the time, because her hands jerked as they cleaned and her eyes kept darting around. Well, fuck, I'd probably be nervous too, if some weird guy came into my workplace after it was closed! And then she knew where the restaurant was, and as fate would have it, she was going there, too. If things went the way I wanted them to, I might end up calling Alice and telling her to eat alone and not to wait up for me.

Things were going great with the fuckhot barista – who, I found out, was rather aptly named Bella – when my sister showed up. When I realized that this woman was who Alice had been talking about earlier, I nearly shit myself. And now I was going to be expected to sit across the dinner table and watch her eat? It was going to be torture, watching that mouth all night, and thinking about what was underneath those clothes of hers.

To top it all off, I had to be an asshole and ask if she was married, or had a boyfriend. Like the woman I'm apparently turning into, I'd checked to see if she was wearing any rings, and had been satisfied when I hadn't seen any. In fact, the only jewelry she wore was a silver chain around her neck, and that wasn't even decorative, it was functional, since it held her keys. A woman this beautiful should be adorned in expensive jewelry by the man who loved her. Lucky enough for me, there was no such man at the present time.

As the night wore on, more hair began working its way free of the bun, and I started to wonder how long it was. I loved a woman with long hair. I was dying for her to take those chopsticks out of it and let it spill down around her shoulders. Try as I might, there was just no feasible excuse I could come up with to do it myself, 'accidentally.'

And then the fucking sex talk started. Leave it to Alice to ask a woman she'd just met whether or not she was sexually active… and goddamn if my dick wasn't hard as steel the entire time they talked about it. She hadn't had sex in two years… hadn't even had a boyfriend in two years.. _Jesus Christ_, what would she be like when she finally _did_ have sex again? She'd be a fucking maniac – literally! I could feel my mouth go dry and I had to shift in my chair and adjust myself without them noticing. The last time I'd had sex was only six months ago, but I jerked off at least twice a week, and I was still aching for it. self-induced orgasms were okay to get you by, but nothing compared to the real thing. Oh, God – now my dick felt like titanium, and I had to change the subject.

At the end of the night, when we were back at the hotel and I was in my room alone, all I could do was press my jacket to my nose and inhale her scent.

And I knew then that I was already fucking gone.

* * *

><p>The next day, my insane pixie of a sister made me wake up at an obscenely early time so that I could drive her to her new job. Normally I would have bitched her up one side and down the other, but then I realized that I would get to see Bella again. I was out of bed and dressed in less than two minutes. Pathetic, I know.<p>

When we got there, she was in a similar position to the one I'd found her in the night before- the music was turned up and she was moving to it… only this time, the song was slow and sensual and fuck me running backwards if she wasn't rolling her hips and holy hell, SEX. Seriously, when had I turned into such a fucking pervert? The way she was moving her hips screamed SEX ME PLEASE. Oh, and I forgot – SEX. Did I mention SEX yet? No? SEX, SEX, SEX.

Somebody please shoot me and put me out of my misery.

Had I mentioned it wasn't even five a.m. yet?

Wasn't it too early to think about sex? About bending her over that counter and ramming into her from behind?

My dick didn't think so.

Alice's porno moan brought me back down to earth, and helped deflate things in my jeans a little bit, thank you, sweet baby Jesus. And apparently, just because the universe wants to fucking torture me, Bella made me sex in a cup. No, actually she'd just made me a damn good cup of coffee, but since I was a coffee worshipper, it basically added up to the same thing. Mmmm, cinnamon. I fucking _loved_ cinnamon.

Did I mention yet that she'd been listening to Nine Inch Nails at four in the fucking morning? And not the shitty Nails that came after Halo 12; she was listening to _Pretty Hate Machine_. I was pretty sure that what I was feeling for her wasn't love, exactly… but it was the closest fucking thing I'd felt in a long time.

And my beautiful barista's pretty little mouth was a dirty one. It seemed that, just like me, she had a fondness for the word fuck. Hearing it in her breathy voice and watching her mouth form the word were sensory overload, and I could feel my breath catch in my lungs as she sat down across from me.

Then I was forgotten, as she trained Alice to work in her shop… which she fucking _owned_, by the way. As if I wasn't already falling hard enough, I'd finally met a woman who was financially independent, and wouldn't give a flying fuck about my very large trust fund. I sat in a back corner of the café by the window, and checked out the décor of the place. There was art everywhere – and if I was correct, it looked like it was all by local artists. That made this place that much cooler, that she was willing to let locals display their shit. I read through half of one of the many books that were on a nearby shelf for customers.

After I'd purchased three coffees from Alice (all done during times when Bella was in the kitchen), I got up and wandered into the back room. It was more dimly lit and sparsely populated, but the small platform stage in the back corner made me think it was probably more crowded on weekends when there was music or poetry or whatever the hell she allowed back here. I wondered briefly if I should perform. Would she watch me? Would she enjoy it at all?

When I'd wandered back out into the main area of the café, Alice waved me over. I told her I was going to take off and grab some lunch, and she told me I should take Bella with me, so she could have a break. My cock and I both protested, but then Bella had said _fuck_ again, and I couldn't say no to that.

And then… she asked if I ate one of her muffins.

_Fuck me._ No, really, please. Goddamn.

Money always gets in the way of shit, doesn't it? She pissed me off, trying to give it back. But I'll admit that when I shoved it back in her pocket, I lingered. Fuck yeah, I did. I deserve a gold fucking medal for that shit – for _not_ moving my fingers to the right a little and experiencing the fucking promised land. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and I faltered for a second… it was the first real indication that she might actually want me back. I was going to have to test this… and I was probably going to wind up in hell for it.

The Mexican food we ate was amazing. What was it about this girl and food? I loved watching her eat.

And what the hell was wrong with me, asking her about books? In the past, if I liked the way a woman looked, I fucked her and it was done with. Why was this one different? Why did it matter so much to me whether or not we had shit in common?

FUCK. Leonard fucking Cohen. Really? What woman liked him? Only her. Goddamn it. Hello, titanium. Again. What the hell was she doing to me? I felt like a deviant. A horny, confused deviant.

She said fuck again. Then she called me pretentious.

I wanted to kiss the fuck out of that pretty little dirty mouth.

Back to the café, and I decided that I needed to put some distance in between us before I did something really fucking embarrassing, like spontaneously combusting, or by shoving her up against a wall and fucking her fifteen different ways from Sunday. I went back to the hotel, dropped Alice at her room, and went to the pool. I swam hard and fast, for as long as my stressed-out body would let me. When it was nearing eight p.m. and I had run out of excuses not to, I drove back to the café.

David fucking Bowie.

This woman is _perfect._

Peppermint mocha and thinking of how she would taste after a sip. I don't even fucking like peppermint. I hate it, actually. But fuck if she wasn't right – with the coffee, it wasn't bad. Delicious, even.

And then hello, sexual innuendos!

Christ.

Then I was asking her out to dinner. She took me to a bar. What woman wants to eat in a grimy, poorly-lit bar? This one, apparently. I'd wanted to fucking clock the huge Native American dude behind the bar who seemed to know her. Then she ordered beers for both of us, and I was literally speechless. I'd never met any woman who liked the taste of beer. This one was going to drink it willingly? Why did everything she do surprise the hell out of me?

Fucking football.

Was it rude to throw a woman down on the floor and fuck her senseless when you had known her less than twenty four full hours? Because I was about to do just that. Not only that, but apparently we rooted for the same team – though I didn't tell her that. Emmett was going to have a fucking field day with this chick when he found out.

Appropriately, or inappropriately enough, Nine Inch Nails song lyrics were stuck in my head.

_I'm drunk_

_And right now, I'm so in love with you_

_And I don't want to think too much about_

_What we should or shouldn't do_

_Lay my hands on heaven, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars_

_While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car_

I may or may not have dug the cd out and listened to it in my car on the way back over here.

Fuck off.


	4. Map of Bella's building

If you'd like to see a map that I drew of the layout of bella's building, here's where you can get a look at it (minus the parentheses, and the spaces, and adding the actions inside the parenthetical notations):

cliodnawrites (dot) freehostia (dot) com (backslash) images (backslash) cafe (dot) jpg

new chapter coming later tonight or early tomorrow morning. i'm loving the reviews... i see a lot of people have added this story to their alerts and favorites but haven't left feedback - would love to hear from you.

thanks again for sticking with me!


	5. Chapter 4

For the first time in recorded history (otherwise known as two years), I woke up to the shrill sound of the alarm clock and wished I could go back to sleep.

I'd been having such good dreams about deep green eyes and long fingers that my girly parts were throbbing and making me wish it had been more than a dream. I groaned and sat up in bed, rubbing my face with my fingertips, trying to rub away the lecherous thoughts that were filling my head. I threw the covers off and headed off to the bathroom to wash my face.

Well, at least one good thing had come of going to the bar last night, I thought. The alcohol had made my overactive mind shut off and sleep had come sooner than usual. The bad? I had a headache. Not a hangover, just a normal headache. I needed caffeine, stat. The problem was that I didn't feel like drinking the normal coffee that I made every morning in my loft – I wanted a salted caramel mocha this morning, which meant that I needed to go downstairs for my fix. That meant that I needed to get dressed and go down there just a few minutes earlier than usual.

Today was Friday, too, which meant that I wouldn't be getting back home until almost one a.m. Damn.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and inspected my face in the mirror. I looked tired. I _felt_ tired. Maybe tiny Alice was right, and I needed to hire some more people so I'd have more time to myself. That was going to be hard for me, because I loved that fucking café, and had invested so much of myself in it. I lived above the damned thing, for chrissakes!

I went back into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, giving a cursory glance to the large basket of dirty clothes in the corner of my bedroom. I would need to do laundry at some point this weekend – most likely on Sunday , since the café was closed on Sundays. I hoped it would rain – I loved spending an entire rainy day in bed, watching tv or reading or catching up on my sleep. I pulled on my standard white t-shirt, noting with some chagrin that it was my last clean one (it'd been two weeks since I'd done my last load of laundry), which meant it was my v-neck tee. Highly inappropriate to flash cleavage at work, but I had no other clean 'uniform' shirts, so it was this or nothing. I pulled it on and frowned at my reflection. I liked looking sexy, but not for work. The clothes I wore to work were supposed to be functional and comfortable, and I couldn't care less if I looked attractive in them, so long as the coffee tasted good.

I padded on bare feet into my kitchen, in search of a quick bite to eat. I nearly pissed myself when my doorbell sounded. I glanced at my watch – it was 4:30 a.m. – what the hell? I bounded down the stairs, my hair feeling heavy against my back, and looked through the peep hole. _Fuck._ It was Edward. I opened the door and shivered; it was cold out there!

"What the hell are you doing here?" I tried to ignore the way that Edward was gaping at me – I already knew how tired I looked. But seriously, couldn't he shut his fucking mouth already? I waved him in and stood to the side to let him through. "Get in here, it's fucking freezing out there."

I followed him up the stairs and moved past them into the kitchen, my unruly hair feeling abnormally heavy on my back as I did. "I was just about to grab something to eat – do you want anything?"

"Your hair is fucking _long_," Edward blurted. I turned and looked at him, somewhat mollified to see that his cheeks were red – from the cold or from embarrassment, I wasn't sure.

"Yeah," I said slowly, my eyebrows shooting up. I silently challenged him to say something else, but he didn't. Instead he closed his mouth and averted his gaze… to my bare feet. His lips parted and his eyes narrowed. I frowned and looked down, wiggling my toes as I did. No, nothing unusual – unless he didn't like my deep plum nail polish, but he could suck it if he didn't. I wasn't keen on fingernail polish on my actual fingernails, because I worked with coffee and food all day – it wouldn't have looked good when I was finished with it, trust me. But I did paint my toenails quite frequently, and just like any other girl, I enjoyed the occasional pedicure.

"Sorry. Um, Alice is downstairs – she sent me up here to get the keys from you so she could open the shop for you – she said something about letting you sleep in or some shit." My eyebrows would've disappeared into my hairline if they could go any higher.

"So she thought that sending you up here to wake me up and get the keys would help me to sleep in?" I repeated incredulously. He finally cracked a grin and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. I pointedly ignored the heat that flooded my abdomen when the bottom of his snug t-shirt rode up and exposed a tiny bit of skin. It showed me enough to know that he had a defined V between his hips, and his happy trail was smattered with the same bronze color that was on his head. I tugged my eyes away and met his, only to read the amusement there. Fuck, I'd been caught ogling. Well, two could play this game.

I watched his eyes narrow infinitesimally as I slowly reached down into my cleavage and withdrew the chain that had the café's keys on it. I bit my bottom lip as I heard his breath hitch, and I pulled the chain over my head and held it out to him. He stared at the keys as though they were foreign objects for a full minute before reaching over and yanking them from my hand. I smirked.

"I hope she's not going to make this a habit," I informed him. "I actually like opening."

"Just make her a copy of the key," he said, shrugging. He ran shaky fingers through his hair. "She wants to be your opener, or some shit."

"Fuck," I breathed. His eyes darted between my mouth and my eyes, and I sighed. "You'd better get down there – especially if she's out in the cold. I'll be down in a few minutes." He nodded and turned, practically running down the stairs. Yes, apparently I repelled men that quickly. I shook my head and went into the bathroom again. I pulled my hair up into its normal bun, securing it today with the red enameled chopsticks instead of the black ones. Yes, I have more than one set of chopsticks, and yes, they're in a variety of colors. Don't judge me. Once my hair was secured, I dug a fresh pair of socks out of my top drawer, pulled them on, and then pulled a pair of worn converse on. I grabbed a hoodie out of my closet (it was fucking _cold_ out there, remember?) and pulled it on, zipping it almost all the way up.

As soon as I stepped into the café and smelled the wonderful aroma of coffee brewing, I relaxed. I could see Alice through the service window of the kitchen, puttering around. I smiled and removed my hoodie, stowing it under the counter. I had just rounded the corner of the hallway on my way to the kitchen when I ran face-first into Edward… or should I say chest-first? My boobs felt completely flattened against his hard chest. His hands gripped my upper arms so tightly that I was sure he'd leave bruises. We stood there like that for what felt like an hour, just staring at each other. Suddenly his grip loosened, and his thumbs were stroking my skin lightly. Jesus, I felt like I was on fire just from that simple touch… and then he let go, and he was gone. Just like in my house, he practically ran out the front door. I stood and watched, gobsmacked, until he'd been gone for a few minutes. I shook my head and went into the kitchen to talk to Alice.

"Good morning, Bella!" Alice chirped, giving me what I was sure was her most innocent smile. I folded my arms over my chest and scowled at her.

"You can stop this," I said. She placed a tray of muffins in the oven and turned to frown at me.

"Stop what?"

"Trying to push your brother and I together. I can totally see through your motives, you meddling pixie. You sent him upstairs because you thought he'd catch me naked, or something," I accused. Her smile was much too bright to be truly innocent.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, shrugging. She pulled a tray of juices out of the cooler and left the kitchen to restock the display case. I followed her.

"You do so!" Okay, so I probably sounded like a ten year old, but I couldn't help it.

"I sent Edward up to get the keys so I could open for you," she said, her attention to her task never wavering. "Although I do find it very interesting that my brother didn't get back to the hotel last night until almost midnight. Do you have any idea what he might have been doing?" She turned and fixed me with a curious gaze, though by the way she was pursing her lips to hold in her laughter, I knew what she _thought_ he'd been doing – or _who_ she thought he'd been doing.

"He didn't do me!" I shrieked. Her eyes widened and I groaned, smacking my forehead. Verbal filter: I have none. "What I meant was that yes, we were together, but no, nothing happened. We ate. We talked. That's _it_, Alice."

"That's not all you wanted it to be, though," she pointed out, giggling.

"I am absolutely in hell," I said aloud, shaking my head. "You're fired! Get out!" She just laughed harder. "Why can't I get rid of you?" I whined, moving behind the counter and prepping the machine. As usual, she watched me make my drink – no salted caramel for me today, after all – a triple shot espresso, which I drank straight from the machine.

"Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose. "How can you _drink_ that? You need sugar or milk or something in it."

"Alice, that defeats the point entirely. If I had wanted something with sugar or milk in it, I would have made a latte or a mocha. The whole point of making espresso is to drink espresso."

"Yuck!" she reiterated, shaking her head. She went into the kitchen and came back with a tray full of steaming chocolate chip scones. The mood had struck me last night, and while Angela had still been here to help hold down the fort, I'd been in the kitchen making the dough. I'd scribbled baking temp and time on a piece of paper and attached it to the plastic that covered the tray. "These look and smell amazing, by the way. I bet they won't last through the first hour."

"Yeah, I may steal one. Your brother's entrance into my loft kind of interrupted my mission to obtain breakfast."

"Here," she said, placing one on a napkin and handing it to me.

"You should have one, too," I offered. She shook her head.

"I made Edward stop on the way here and pick me up an egg mcmuffin."

"Sacrilege, Alice. Those things are nasty."

"They're heavenly!"

"Yuck. And since we're sort of on the subject, can I have my keys back now?" Her shifty eyes alarmed me. "Alice, where are my keys?"

"I may or may not have sent Edward out to… makecopiesforme," she blurted, taking off into the kitchen. I was proud of myself for very calmly sitting my espresso and scone on the counter before taking off like a bat out of hell after her.

"You did _what_?" I shrieked. She winced. "How is he gonna know which keys are the ones to the shop, and which one is to my house?"

"So you don't mind my having the keys, you just mind that we might end up with a key to your home, too?" she clarified. I frowned and opened my mouth, but she beat me to the punch. "Bella, you're already the best friend I've ever had, which I know sounds weird, considering how short of a time we've known each other, but it's the truth. I would never abuse the trust you've placed in me by allowing me to have a set of keys to either your home or here."

I exhaled noisily, and I didn't even have to utter a syllable for her to know she'd won. She squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet before propelling herself forward and giving me a tight hug.

"You won't regret it!" she promised.

"I already do," I lamented. "Okay, but if this shit's gonna go down like this, I've still got to have my morning music. I won't make it through the day without it. Light jazz and blues are okay for the customers, but I have to have my shot of _me_ in the mornings before we open." She nodded emphatically and saluted me.

"Carry on, my captain!" she giggled and went back into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes and bit back a smile as I rummaged through the cds under the counter. I found what I wanted, popped it in, and cranked up the volume.

_Who are you with, where have you been__  
><em>_Imagination turns thoughts, reason can't change__  
><em>_Staring at the walls, think I know what I see__  
><em>_Anger and coffee, feeling mean_

I danced around behind the counter, sort of lamenting the fact that my hair was in a bun and I couldn't headbang properly. Fridays were always fast music days, since I was crazy busy all damned day – I needed the extra push outside of the coffee to get me going. I had just put the cash drawer in the register and closed it when Edward walked back into the shop. I watched as he took two steps in, stopped, and looked around. When his eyes met mine, my heart started working double time. The look in his eyes could only be described as amazed.

"Black Flag?" I nodded as he crossed the floor and dropped my chain and keys on the counter. I scooped them up and put them on, tucking the keys down into my shirt between my breasts. When I looked up, I saw him watching me, his eyelids at half mast.

"I love Henry Rollins," I explained, reaching for my tiny espresso cup. "I have all of his spoken word albums on CD." I reached down and turned the CD off, changing it to the local college station, which only played blues until noon every day. I turned the volume down.

"Yeah, me too." I glanced up to see him eyeing my coffee and scone. I rolled my eyes, took a sip of my espresso, and set about making him one, too. I'd take money out of what he'd given me (it was still in an envelope in the pocket of the apron I'd just tied on) and put it in the drawer later for his espresso and the scone I was about to give him. "I kind of figured that either you liked him, or you got the books on the cheap." I looked up from the machine, frowning in confusion. He pointed to the corner, where a bookshelf stood. I nodded and felt the frown smooth out.

"Oh, yeah. I leave those over there for customers who feel like reading, but I have my own set upstairs." I held out the espresso and he took it, nodding his thanks at me. He sat down at one of the tables, and I slid the display case open to get him a still-warm scone. I put it on a plate and walked it to where he was sitting, plopping down opposite him with my own.

"I read through half of one the other day," he informed me, taking a huge bite of the scone. His eyes rolled back in his head. "This is amazing," he mumbled through his mouthful.

"Wait until you taste her sex cake," Alice said, emerging from the kitchen. Edward promptly began choking on his mouthful, and Alice smirked at him. "I find it very interesting that you two are eating together _again_. And Bella, what the hell was that noise out here?"

"Noise?"

"I thought you said you were going to play music," she said, stressing the word music. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at her.

"Black Flag is music."

"Ugh, it sounds like that junk that Edward had playing in his room all through high school," she complained, shaking her head. I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Couldn't have been any worse than me," I said, still laughing. He ignored us as best he could, blowing across the top of his cup to cool the liquid. My legs felt weak as I watched his pursed lips. "I played sad bastard music for my entire ninth grade year. I'm sure my dad thought I was going to kill myself." Edward looked up at this, a grin lighting up his face. Alice rolled her eyes and shook her head, heading back towards the kitchen when the oven's timer started buzzing.

"Sad bastard music? Jesus, Bella. I never know what you're going to say."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said, smiling back. I pinched off a piece of scone and popped it in my mouth. He looked down at the table before looking back up at me through those damn long lashes of his, and I nearly choked .

"Actually, I kind of love it."

"Yeah, um…" I coughed. "I have to go – wash my hands," I blurted, jumping up from the table. I ignored the rich, velvety laughter that followed me down the hallway.

I was able to put Edward out of my mind for a while as Alice and I got into a groove during the breakfast service. She'd been right about the scones. We opened the doors at five thirty, and by six fifteen they were all gone. By seven thirty, all of the cinnamon apple muffins were gone. By eight forty five, we were down to one chocolate chocolate chip muffin. Right at nine o'clock, the door opened, and a huge, dark-haired man walked in.

"Good morning," I greeted him, smiling. He grinned back, and _damn_. Those dimples were deep and amazing.

"It is, isn't it?" He replied.

"What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a black eye and that last chocolate muffin right there," he said, pointing to the display case.

"Sure thing." I got his muffin out and sat it on a plate in front of him with a fork and a napkin, and started working on his drink.

"Emmett!" Alice came barreling out of the hallway and launched herself at the man, who caught her easily and hugged her. I blinked. No way in hell was this Edward and Alice's brother – he was fucking humongous! He was a lawyer? He could have easily been a linebacker! "What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting someone," he told her, a twinkle in his eyes. She grinned and clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, make sure you get her a piece of Bella's sex cake!" I felt my cheeks heat up. I placed his cup on the counter, and when he took out his wallet to pay me, I waved him off.

"On the house." He grinned and inclined his head once.

"Thank you. What's this my sister tells me about sex cake?"

"That's not what it's called," I stammered, knowing that my cheeks were flaming red. He laughed.

"It tastes amazing," Alice said solemnly.

"Alice, it's nine o'clock in the morning," I said, shaking my head. "Who's going to eat cake this early?"

"Bitch, please. You know that cake is fantastic. I've had it for breakfast on more than one occasion." Emmett turned, and I felt my face break into a huge grin.

"Rose! It's been for fucking _ever_ since you've been in here!" I accused, rounding the counter and hugging her. She laughed.

"Sorry – you know I can't come in here without gaining ten pounds."

"But you used to come in every day," I pouted. "What the hell happened?"

"I got busy," she said, her voice full of apologies. "But I won't stay away anymore."

"What can I get you? It's on the house," I added quickly.

"How the hell do you make any money if you keep giving shit away?" Emmett asked finally. I turned in time to see Alice elbow him in the ribs.

"You must be Rosalie," she said, offering her hand. Rose took it and nodded. "I'm Emmett's younger, much classier sister, Alice." Rose smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Alice."

"How do you know Bella?" Alice asked innocently.

"We've been out together a few times. I work not too far from here, and I used to come in here for my daily caffeine fix."

"Hey, did am I interrupting something?" I turned to see Edward standing near the door, looking confused.

"Hey, little brother," Emmett boomed, grinning. Rosalie turned and looked.

"I didn't realize I was going to be meeting the whole family," Rosalie said dryly, arching an eyebrow at Emmett. He shrugged and smiled nonrepentantly.

"Apparently the ambush approach is normal for this family," I muttered to Rosalie. She laughed. "Please tell me what I can get you, so I can make my hasty retreat."

"How about a café bombón and a slice of the sex cake?" Edward and I spoke at the same time.

"It's not a damned sex cake!"

"What the hell is a café bombón?"

"Watch and learn, little man," Rosalie laughed, pointing towards me as I made my way behind the counter. Rose and Emmett found a table and sat down, while Alice and Edward both watched me with interest. I measured out some sweetened condensed milk and poured it into a glass that was similar to a shot glass. I made some espresso and poured it on top. Then I took it out to Rose, along with a slice of the cake.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at me. I grinned.

"Don't ever stay away that long again, you hooker."

"I won't, bitch." She laughed and I went back to the counter and wiped down the machine.

"Why are you back already?" I asked Edward, not looking at him as I spoke.

"I went back to the hotel to get some more sleep," he said, giving Alice a pointed look, which she ignored. "But I couldn't, so I thought I may as well come back here and see what you ladies were up to."

"You need a hobby," I said. He laughed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up again. My fingers trembled a little as I wiped down the counter top. "Or some friends."

"I thought you were my friend, Bella." _Do not look up. Do not look up. Do not… fuck._ He was pouting at me. That fucker. My heart skipped a few beats, and I felt light-headed.

"No. I am most decidedly not your friend. You are evil, and must be destroyed." He barked out a surprised laugh, and his body shook with it. I hid my smile by turning my back to him. I sliced some cake, put it on a plate, and handed it to him with a fork. "Go eat, and leave me alone."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, saluting me. I flipped him off, and he laughed again. I waited on the next customer, who had seen what I'd made Rose and asked for the same thing. It wasn't on the menu, but Rose knew what she liked, and she knew that I knew how to make it the way she liked it. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Edward sat down, picked up the fork, and took a bite of the cake.

Color me confused… as soon as he took a bite, he dropped the fork and approached the counter.

"Is something wrong?" I asked nervously, darting a glance at Rose. Her plate was empty already, so if something had been wrong with the taste, she surely hadn't noticed it.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should get married." His grin lit up his whole face, and I rolled my eyes.

"Jesus, jackass," I breathed. "I thought you were going to tell me that something was wrong with the cake."

"It is, without a doubt, the best goddamn thing I've ever had in my mouth." His eyes dropped down, traveling all the way down my body, and then just as slowly back up. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as his eyes met mine. "So far."

.

I watched breathlessly as he made his way back to his table and sat down, shooting me a knowing smirk before digging back into the cake.

"So are you going to start selling whole cakes?" I swear I jumped ten feet in the air, I was so surprised to hear Alice's amused voice near my ear. I exhaled and turned to her.

"When would I have the time, Alice? Then I have to think about cost of ingredients, packaging, pricing, cost of labor for the extra effort-"

"Don't be a buzzkill, Bella. You know I'll help you, you don't need to pay me, and we'll figure out the financial stuff while we're baking. It has the potential to bring in a lot of income. And then you can branch out even further, and sell other cakes."

"I don't run a bakery, Alice," I warned her. Then something occurred to me that I hadn't asked before. I narrowed my eyes at her. "What was your job before you moved here?"

"I worked in advertising," she said, her voice still sounding too innocent.

"Then why in god's name would you want to work at a coffee shop here?"

"I _like_ you, Bella. And I needed a change in my life."

"Moving here from wherever-"

"Washington," she interrupted.

"-from Washington wasn't enough of a change?" She put her hands on her hips and looked exasperated.

"Why do you have such difficulty accepting that people like you and want to do nice things for you? Just let me help you, damn it!" I blinked in surprise.

"Oh..okay." Her brilliant smile was back.

"Thanks!" she took off and started serving the next customer, and I just stood there stupidly. After a minute, I shook myself out of it, and went to check the back room. Tonight was an open mic night, and it started at eight, so things were bound to get a little crazy. I picked up a few stray dishes (people normally didn't venture back here when there was daylight out, since there were no windows back here) and took them to the kitchen. After I'd washed all of the dirty dishes (which I didn't usually get the chance to do during the day), I called out to Alice. She popped her head up in the service window.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to stay back here and prep some stuff. Are you okay out there?" She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I am. What are you doing?"

"Mixing batter."

"You'll get it done quicker with two sets of hands." Her face disappeared and I shook my head, gathering some large mixing bowls, whisks, and measuring cups. I was in the middle of measuring out flour into one of the bowls when Edward strolled into the kitchen.

"Alice said you needed me?" he asked uncertainly. I stared.

"She did?" as if she knew we were talking about her, she poked her head around the doorway.

"Bella wants to get some goodies prepped, and she'll get it finished a lot sooner if you help her, Edward." And then she was gone. I scowled at the place where she'd just been, and Edward laughed softly.

"I see. The matchmaker strikes again, right?" I glared at him, and he smiled. "Well, I can help if you'd like. If not, that's cool, too." I looked at the island table top where all of my supplies were spread out.

"I would actually be grateful for a little bit of help," I admitted reluctantly. "I want to prep some cookie dough and some muffin batter. Can you cook at all?"

"I can't even boil water," he laughed. I sighed. "But I have excellent math skills and a strong set of arms, so I can measure and mix." Well, that was something, at least. But I refused to think about his strong arms. I refused.

"You refuse what?" He asked, his face a mask of confusion. Shit! I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud!

"I refuse… to let you help for nothing," I covered quickly. He tilted his head and studied me for a moment, and then he smiled.

"Fine. You can take me out to lunch again when we're finished."

"Jesus Christ, you're a moocher! I should've known! There's no such thing as a free lunch, Cullen," I teased, feeling a little more at ease. He grinned and took the measuring cups I handed him.

"I know that, and it won't be. I'm earning that lunch right now, and yesterday I got you back by paying for dinner, remember?"

"But you aren't going to be around for every meal, to try and get me back," I pointed out, handing him the baking soda, baking powder, and salt containers. He chuckled. "Why do you hang out here all day, anyway? Don't you have a job, or something?"

"I'm in between right now," he admitted. "I was actually thinking of coming by and performing tonight at your open mic thing, if that's okay."

"It's fine, as long as you make sure you sign up to guarantee you a spot. The paper is under the front counter, right under the register." I was a little distracted by the missing sugar. What the hell had I done with it last night? I frowned as I looked around, my eyes scanning the room. Edward washed his hands, sloshing a little bit of water over the side of the sink.

"You're not even going to ask what I'm going to do?" he pouted.

"Beatnik poetry, of course," I shot back, spotting the container in the corner. I crossed the room, intent on getting the sugar, but as I was walking past Edward, I slipped. It was only a little bit of water, but my foot slid anyway. If I'd been wearing my docs, it wouldn't have mattered, but my Converse were so worn that there wasn't any tread left. My arms flailed as I tried to stop myself from falling. I managed to grab a fistful of Edward's shirt, and almost immediately I felt his arms wrap around me, steadying me. I sucked in an embarrassed breath and let my forehead drop to his chest as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Shit, Bella, I'm sorry!"

"What are you sorry for? I'm the one with no discernible coordination," I muttered. Wow, he was warm. And fuck me if he didn't smell incredible. I tried not to be too conspicuous as I pressed my nose to his shirt and inhaled deeply. Apparently Edward was a smoker – or he'd been around one recently, because I could definitely smell smoke on him, faint as it was. His arms tightened around me, and I swear I felt like purring. I think I did make a noise in the back of my throat, but I was praying that he hadn't heard it.

"Fuck. Bella," he whispered. When I he spoke, it snapped me back into reality, and I realized that I'd snuggled into him. I let go of his shirt and he dropped his arms, leaving me feeling cold and totally embarrassed yet again.

"Sorry," I breathed, giving him what I hoped what a sheepish smile. "There's a reason I'm not named Grace." I grabbed the sugar and put some distance between us, which helped me calm down, but only marginally. My heart was still racing, and I had his delicious scent stuck in my nose.

"Bella, I-"

"You don't need to apologize again," I said, holding a hand up. "I am a complete klutz on any given day, let alone introducing water into the mix. The nurses in the local ER know me by name." He snorted. "So let's get back to work, shall we?"

The next two hours passed uneventfully, and it was surprising to me how well Edward and I actually did work together. I would turn to ask him to hand me something, and he would already have it ready, anticipating my needs. At some point, we began talking, and I actually learned things about him.

I learned that he loved food of all kinds, except for bratwurst and polish sausages.

I learned that he hated hotels.

I learned that he had a degree in music composition, even though he'd begun college as a pre-med major.

I learned that he loved his parents. It was clear when he spoke about her that his mother hung the moon. His dad had taught him how to play the guitar.

I also learned that his only serious girlfriend had cheated on him for the entire year they'd been together in college, and that he was gunshy when it came to relationships because of it.

In return, I offered up some information about myself.

I told him how green had always been my favorite color, and that I was totally jealous of his living on the west coast, even if it had only been in Washington, because he'd been near the ocean. I told him that I was allergic to cats and dogs. He knew that my father had recently remarried and decided to travel with his new wife – the last post card I'd gotten had come from West Virginia. He knew that I loved to bake, and that I considered it cathartic. He also learned that while I had had a few date offers, I hadn't been in a serious relationship since Mike had dumped me two years ago for a girl who used to work for me. I cringed when I told him how I'd found them having sex in the men's bathroom after closing one night.

After it was all said and done, we'd prepared enough dough for about 120 snickerdoodles, filled 4 muffin pans with chocolate batter, filled 3 more tins with banana mocha batter (which he'd mocked me for, because according to him if people wanted coffee taste they should just buy the goddamned coffee), and put 4 sex cakes in the oven to bake.

Oh, hell. Now I was calling it a sex cake, too.

I pulled my apron off and lobbed it at his head when he'd made some lewd suggestions about what we could do with the cake. That resulted in him throwing a wet wash cloth at me – the one he'd been using to wipe down the counter. It hit me square in the chest, making my white t-shirt partially see-through. I took advantage of his distracted staring to throw a handful of chocolate chips at him. He gasped in mock outrage and threw a handful of flour at me. I stomped around the table, reached in the bag and withdrew a handful of flour myself, and dumped it straight on top of his beautiful, messy bronze hair.

He gaped at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. I put my hands on my hips and smirked up at him. He stared for a few more seconds, and then he leaned forward. I felt my eyes widen and my pulse begin to race – was he going to kiss me?

"What the hell happened in here?" Edward's head snapped up, and he took a step backward. I sighed softly and turned to see Alice's incredulous gaze sweeping over the kitchen. "It looks like the flour bag exploded!"

"It's Edward's fault," I said quickly, pointing to him. His eyebrows shot up.

"You fired the first shot, barista," he retorted.

"But only because you were saying that the sex cake would taste better if-"

"And that's enough of that," he interrupted, holding his hands up in surrender. "I absolutely started it. I'll clean it up while you go upstairs and change so you can buy my lunch." His smirk was back. Damn that sexy smirk! I turned to march past Alice, purposely ignoring her amused look. I let myself back into my loft and ran up the stairs, tearing through to the bathroom. I peeled my sweaty clothes off and hopped into the shower – it was going to be the quickest shower I'd ever taken. I washed my hair and body and then hopped out, wrapping a towel around myself.

I ran into my bedroom and went to open my t-shirt drawer when I realized I'd worn my last white one. I sighed in frustration. It was just lunch, right? There was an apron in the kitchen of the café that would cover my upper body too. With that thought in mind, I just grabbed a t-shirt out of the closet and pulled it on, along with a clean pair of jeans. My doorbell sounded just as I'd gotten them zipped up. I ran to the top of the stairs and screamed 'come in!'

I couldn't find my damn docs! I wasn't putting those fucking Converse back on – not after I'd slipped in them. Where had I kicked them off last night, though? I heard footsteps on my stairs as I turned and scanned the room. I saw some black poking out from beneath my couch, and I dove for it. I pulled one out, but the other one was shoved a little further under the couch, so I had to get down on my hands and knees to fish it out.

"Hey, Bella – what the hell is taking so – _Jesus fuck!_" I turned to see Edward staring at me, his mouth gaping.

"What?" I sat up on my knees and looked around frantically, wondering what he'd seen.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice hoarse. He was gripping the rail so hard, his knuckles were white.

"I was looking for my docs," I said, holding them up and giving him a triumphant smile. I stood and placed them on the end table before moving past him to try and grab some socks, but his hand shot out and he gripped my arm. I looked down at his hand and then back up at him. "Are you okay? Your face is really red."

"I'm fine," he choked out, his eyes fixed on my chest. I followed his gaze and looked down at my t-shirt before looking back up at him.

"You don't like the Beastie Boys?"

"Love them. I didn't know they made t-shirts for ten year olds, though." I felt my mouth drop open and I glared at him.

"This is not a ten year old's shirt! It's a baby tee."

"Then why are you wearing it?"

"A baby tee is a woman's t-shirt that's a little bit more snug and cropped," I explained as though I were speaking to a toddler. I looked back down. It wasn't wildly inappropriate – yeah, it was cropped, but it still came almost to the top of my jeans. Wait – was he saying that I was flat-chested? I felt my face heat up. "And I'll have you know that I have enough boobs to fill it out!"

He looked like he was about to choke on his tongue.

"Excuse me?"

"I am _not_ flat chested!"

"I never said you were!"

"You most certainly did! You asked me why I was wearing a shirt made for a ten year old, and ten year olds do _not_ have boobs!"

"I know you have boobs!" he shouted, dropping my arm.

"Then why did you say I didn't have boobs?" I demanded.

"I never said that! I know you have boobs – you have very nice – shit! Can we stop talking about your boobs?"

"You brought it up," I said, irritated. I folded my arms across my chest and he looked like he was going to have a seizure.

"Jesus, can you _not_ do that?"

"What?"

"That!" he averted his eyes and pointed at my chest. I dropped my arms and stomped in frustration.

"I'm sorry that I've reminded you that I'm a girl! If you had a problem with that, you probably should've said something earlier!" I stomped off into my room and yanked my drawer open, grabbing a clean pair of socks. I pulled the socks on and went back out into the living room. Edward was standing in the same place, though he looked pained. His eyes were shut and his jaw was working back and forth. I ignored him as best I could as I pulled my shoes on and tied them.

"Look, if you don't want to go eat-"

"I do," he said quickly, finally meeting my eyes. His jaw was still twitching and his eyes were blazing, but he sounded calmer. "I'm sorry. I'm constantly messing things up with you – I don't want to be like that." I frowned.

"Okay," I said slowly. "So what are you hungry for?" His face took on a predatory look for a moment, and my breathing hitched.

"How about sushi?"

"Sure – there's a restaurant a block away." He followed me down the stairs and watched as I locked the door behind us. The short walk to the restaurant was completely silent, and I couldn't help but wonder why he thought I looked like a kid. I mean, what else could his comment have meant? He just didn't see me that way. Maybe… maybe I wanted him to, though. The thing was, I had no clue to go about getting him to notice me.

We entered the restaurant and decided to sit at the sushi bar. We both bent over the paper, trying to figure out what we wanted.

"Spicy tuna, for sure," I mused aloud.

"And California rolls," he added.

"And spider rolls," we said in unison. I couldn't help it; I cracked a smile. When he smiled right back, my heart nearly stopped. We placed our order, and I sipped at the Coke I'd ordered.

"So what are you going to do tonight for open mic?"

"I was thinking of playing my guitar," he replied, taking a sip of his green tea. I nodded.

"Did you sign up?"

"Yeah, just before I came to check on you." I toyed with my straw for a minute, trying to figure out how phrase what I wanted to ask – I wanted to know why he'd freaked out on me. I chickened out.

"So Emmett seems nice." I think he could tell that that was not what I'd wanted to say, but he nodded anyway.

"Yeah, normally."

"You know he and Rose have already fucked, right?" His mouthful of green tea went all over the table and dribbled down the front of his shirt. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face with it, then tried to dab at the liquid on his shirt.

"What the fuck, Bella?"

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"What would make you say that?"

"I know Rose. She's picky about who she goes out with, but she sleeps with them on the first date. If there's no chemistry or the sex is bad, she never sees them again."

"Seriously? I guess that would explain why Alice couldn't find Emmett last night at the hotel." He looked at me curiously. "Do you ah… do you have the same standards?"

"I want to say no – but I have slept with a guy before on a first date." I shrugged. "I've regretted it ever since – but not because I had sex with him so soon, just because it was horrible."

"How bad could it be?" He wondered aloud. "Sex is pretty basic, right?"

"Well, for starters, it's never good to call a woman by another name when your penis is inside her," I informed him. He choked on the drink he'd tried to swallow.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, coughing. "Quit doing that when I'm drinking! He called you another name?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't have taken so much offense to it if he hadn't told me already that it was his mother's name." Edward coughed and sputtered again.

"Fuck!"

"The sad part is that he finished in record time. He got his rocks off, and I faked an orgasm to get him the fuck out of my place."

"Don't ever fake orgasms," he instructed me, his face blood red from his coughing fit. "It only ensures that no man will ever give you a _real_ one, since he'll think he's doing it already."

"Thank you, love doctor," I snarked. He chuckled. "The only orgasms I've ever had have been self-induced." His head whipped around and he stared at me with wide eyes.

"Are you just fucking with me, or what?"

"Why would I do that?" I asked, watching as our sushi was placed in front of us. I grabbed a pair of chopsticks and grabbed a piece of spicy tuna roll. _Fuck, _that was good!

"You've seriously never had an orgasm during sex? What about oral sex?"

"How could I have an orgasm from sucking a guy off?" He choked and spit out the California roll he'd just sunk his teeth into. His coughing fit was so bad this time that I had to smack his back a few times before he settled down.

"I meant on _you_," he clarified, when he was breathing somewhat normally again. "Haven't you ever had an orgasm from some guy going down on you?" I stared blankly at him before turning my attention back to the food. "Bella?" He wasn't going to let this one go, I could tell. "Bella? Guys _have_ gone down on you before, right?" I shrugged, and his chopsticks clattered down onto his plate.

"You mean to tell me that you've never-"

"No, Edward," I sighed, tired of talking about it. "I've never had a man go down on me before. You can marvel at my inexperience some other time. On another note, while I've never had oral sex performed on before, I have had anal sex. So let's move on, shall we?" I didn't think it had been possible for his face to get any redder than it was, but I was wrong. His face was nearly purple now. I popped another spicy tuna roll into my mouth and chewed, waiting for him to break the silence.

"Bella, baby – you can't just say shit like that and not expect me to react," he said gently. My heart sped up. He called me _baby_! Fuck, that was hot. I don't think he realized he'd done it, though. I shrugged and took another drink of my coke.

"It doesn't really bother me all that much."

"I'm sure it doesn't, since you don't know what you're missing," he shot back. I rolled my eyes and snagged a bite of the California roll.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Why don't you care at all?"

"Don't answer a question with a question!" He smacked my hand as I reached for the bite of California roll that he was reaching for, too. I reached with the other hand, and he smacked it out of the way, too. he anticipated my next move, and when I reached with both hands, he grabbed both of my wrists. He smirked at me until I leaned over and sank my teeth into his forearm. Instead of yelping like I thought he would, he yanked me closer, pulling me until I was out of my seat and pressed up against him. Just when our noses were touching and I thought he was going to try to kiss me, his cellphone started ringing.

"Fuck," he breathed, releasing me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone as I sat back down, fighting not to let him see how shaky my hands were. I reached for another spicy tuna roll – at this rate, I was going to eat them all before he even got one. "Edward Cullen."

There was a pause, and his expression hardened.

"I'm just gonna – bathroom," I said, pointing. He shook his head head motioned for me to sit back down.

"Look, I don't know how you got this number, but you can go ahead and lose it, or I'll change it." He paused again, and I stole the piece of California roll we'd been fighting over. "Bella," he whined, watching me pop it into my mouth. He straightened up, his attention back on the caller. "Yes, Bella is a woman."

I screwed my face up at him, and he laughed.

"Look, I don't really care. Don't call me again." He closed his phone and snorted at me. "You are crazy, do you know that?"

"I do know that, actually." We finished the meal in relative peace, and walked back to the café in an amicable silence. Once we were back inside, I grabbed the long apron out of the kitchen and tied it on. Alice was staring at me.

"What?"

"Bella," she began, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "What exactly is going on between you and my brother?"

"We're friends, why?"

"You sure looked a lot more than friendly in the kitchen earlier," she observed. I shrugged.

"We're just friends. He's funny."

"Yeah, he is," she said, smiling.

"You can go home now, if you want."

"I think I will, if you don't mind," she said, removing her apron. "Jazzy and I are going to come back here later. I want to show him the place, introduce you guys, and of course watch Edward perform."

"What about Emmett and Rose?" I asked, realizing I'd never gotten to say goodbye to my friend earlier.

"I don't think they'll show – I think they were going to do their own thing tonight."

"Do each other, you mean," I said under my breath. Alice laughed.

"They've totally already done it," she said, grinning. I smiled back.

"Yeah, I know. I tried to tell Edward that, but he didn't believe me."

"How could you not tell?"

"He's a man," I said, shrugging. She pulled me into a quick hug, and then waved as she ran out the door.

The day passed quickly, with Angela and my other employee, Leah, arriving around six. They would stay until midnight and help me close, which I was grateful for. Open mic started at eight, though Edward wasn't on the schedule until ten fifteen. Around nine thirty, Alice walked in with her arms wrapped around a tall, slender blonde man. His hair fell in light curls around his shoulders, and his eyes were a beautiful topaz color.

"Hey Bella!" she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "This is my Jasper. Jazzy, this is Bella!" I gave him a small wave from behind the counter and smiled.

"It's nice to meet you."

"You too, Bella. I've heard a lot about you."

"Not all bad, I hope."

"None bad," he answered, grinning. I had to admit, the southern accent he had going on was pretty nice. "I hear you make a mean chocolate cake."

"You'd have to be the judge of that," I laughed. I placed a slice on a plate and handed it to him. "Compliments of my new employee," I said, nodding towards Alice. She grinned and placed a smacking kiss on his cheek.

"You're gonna love this," she told him. She turned to look at me. "Is Edward here yet?"

"I haven't seen him come in, but that doesn't mean that he's not here."

"No, if he was here, you'd know." I looked up and frowned at the smirk she was directing at me. Jasper caught my eye and smiled, too. I sighed. What the hell was up with this family?

"Jasper, would you like a drink?"

"I could go for a beer." Alice turned around, and lo and behold, a smirking Edward was right behind her. Fuck me – what the hell was the man wearing? Tight jeans, a v-neck t-shirt that was molded to his body like a second skin, and a vintage black leather jacket. My ovaries could not handle two spontaneous ovulations in a one week period… shit…

"Maybe after you're finished, we can go out," she said, motioning towards the guitar case that I hadn't noticed… you know, since I was busy ogling him and deciding which part I wanted to taste first, if I ever got the chance.

Definitely the mouth.

But I digress.

And then the neck.

No, no; back to the coffee. I love coffee!

…maybe the collarbone first.

Customers? What the fuck are those? Oh, yeah!

"I don't think so," Edward said, shaking his head.

"Oh? Big plans? Do you have a date or something?" Alice asked. Jasper, god bless him, had noticed my discomfort. He leaned forward and ordered.

"I'll have a dirty chai please, Bella." I nodded, grateful for something to do to take my mind off of Edward and how much I wanted to jump him, regardless of the fact that there were so many people here. I went through the motions and made Jasper's drink. He tried to pay me, but I waved him off. "Thank you kindly."

"No problem." He and Edward moved to the side and started talking, and Alice stepped up to the counter.

"Isn't he amazing?" she cooed. I laughed and began working on another drink – a cinnamon spice mocha, this time. She watched with interest.

"I can definitely tell that he loves you," I observed. Her face lit up.

"He really does. I love him too, more than anything."

"I can tell." I finished making the drink and piped on whipped cream, and topped it off with a light dusting of cinnamon. I held it out to her and jerked my head in her brother's direction. "This is for Edward." She gave me a look that said she was wondering why I made it for him, but to her credit, she said nothing and took it to him.

She handed it to him and said something that I couldn't hear. He sniffed it gingerly, and his eyes slid shut before he brought it to his lips and took a tentative sip. I didn't get to see his reaction though, because several customers approached the counter at once. I did glance up at the clock every few minutes, because I'll be damned if I was going to miss his performance. I was dying of curiosity. At ten after ten, I asked Angela to take over the counter, and I wandered into the back room. I was right on time – Edward was already on stage, and was removing his acoustic guitar from its case. I watched as he tugged on the strings a few times, and then adjusted the knobs on it. When he was satisfied, he pulled the stool up to the microphone and sat down.

Nothing could have prepared me for the dulcet tones of his voice. When he opened that beautiful mouth and started singing, I was transported into another world.

_Everything's falling, and I am included in that__  
><em>_Oh, how I try to be just okay__  
><em>_Yeah, but all I ever really wanted__  
><em>_Was a little piece of you_

Was it coincidence that he'd chosen to sing one of my absolute favorite songs of all time? How many men would sing a song that was originally performed by a woman and keep all the words the same? Did that have anything to do with the fact that he knew that I hated when people changed the words to a song? Was I being too egotistical, thinking he might be singing this just for me?

Probably.

I gaped.

I drooled.

I spontaneously ovulated… again.

And I think I fell more than just a little bit in love with Edward Cullen.


	6. Chapter 5

I wasn't going to get any music this morning. No swinging hips, no adorably surprised looks – I couldn't surprise her. My sister wanted me to go get the keys so she could try her hand at opening alone. I didn't say anything, but I didn't think Bella would go for it. Being the good monkey boy I am, though, I went and rang the doorbell.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes when that door swung open, though.

Fuck me.

Her long, wavy hair spilled down around her shoulders – all the way down her back. The tips of her hair grazed the curve of her ass. _Goddamn. _All I could think about was touching her hair, tugging on it as I – oh, shit, she was talking.

Too bad. I couldn't focus.

Bare fucking feet and ohgodohgod, perfectly pedicured toenails that were deep purple. Cleavage-revealing t-shirts. In her apartment. Fuck me, please and thank you.

Explaining my presence in her home and hell yeah, I caught you checking me out, baby. You might not have even realized you were doing it, but fuck, that gives me hope that I might have a chance in hell with you. Hope is a dangerous thing to have, for a man like me that's never needed it. I'm a grab-life-by-the-balls-and-hang-on-for-all-you're-worth kind of guy. I take what I want. I've never needed to hope that a woman is interested in me – they almost always are.

Did she do that shit on purpose? I felt all of my breath leave me in a _whoosh_ of air as I watched her – her fingers dipped down into the magnificent cleavage that was on display, and she extracted her necklace. Had I just been cold from the weather outside? I couldn't remember, because now I felt like I was trapped in a fucking sauna. Jesus, the keys were still warm from being pressed against her skin!

I was in hell.

And then suddenly it was way too much for me, to be expected to just stand here and do nothing while she talked to me with that pretty little dirty mouth and that hair hanging in a shiny curtain around her shoulders. I ran down the stairs and bolted outside, sucking cold air into my lungs and praying that it would help calm the fire inside my body. I handed the keys to Alice, who gave me an odd look, but for the first time in her life didn't say anything. She tried one other key before finding the right one. We walked in, flipping on lights as we went. Alice told me to run and make copies of the keys – there was a Wal-Mart or some shit three miles away. I ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, since it still felt warm.

And since I am obviously suffering from karmic retribution for something I must have royally fucked up in another life, I ran face-first into my barista.

My hands shot up and grabbed her arms of their own volition to help her steady herself, and I knew I had her in a death grip, but I couldn't help myself. Her soft breasts were pressed against my chest, and I was torn between wanting to push her away and wanting to crush her to me. In the end, I opted for neither. I felt my fingers loosen a little, and like the masochistic bastard I truly am, I rubbed my thumbs against her skin. Fuck, but it was _soft. _My heart was pounding wildly against my ribcage, doing its best to try and break free. That's when I panicked and took off, leaving her standing there.

Hey, I never said that I wasn't an asshole.

I sped to that fucking store, had the keys copied, and sped back.

When I walked back in, my ears were assaulted with Henry Rollins' screaming. I felt the smile tugging at my lips. Damn, she was pretty fucking incredible. I remembered being in the car with Tanya once and playing a Black Flag song, which she'd promptly turned off. I wasn't even put off by the obvious title of this song – it brought a smile to my face. She liked Rollins.

My eyes drifted down to the small, clear cup of dark liquid she was about to pick up, and I felt the saliva pooling in my mouth. It didn't help that she had some kind of pastry lying there too – and my stomach was suddenly growling and demanding sustenance. I watched as she began fiddling with her beloved machine, and a few minutes later, I was the eager recipient of an espresso and a chocolate chip… something. I took a bite and my taste buds began singing the hallelujah chorus… or they would have, if they could sing. Quit judging me, all right? I was starving.

Until I was choking.

Damn you, Alice! Fucking _sex cake_? Really?

I picked up the espresso, intent on taking a drink to help the crumbs stuck in my throat go down a little easier. It was hot, and I had no desire to burn my taste buds off – I still had the cake thing left, and I wanted to finish it, by God! I blew on the steaming liquid before attempting to sip it.

And yes, if you must know, I was very pointedly ignoring my sister, who'd pointed out that Bella and I were eating together. Again. Shut the hell up, Captain Obvious! You talk too goddamned much.

Then from embarrassed to amused in a heartbeat. Sad bastard music? That was funny as hell! I was going to have to pull that out the next time Jasper started playing his depressing "woe is me" country shit.

Oh, fuck. I dropped the L-bomb.

I was only talking about loving her crazy verbosity, but still… it clearly freaked her out. She couldn't get away from me fast enough. I laughed, because it was funny, but then … Color me fucking confused. I never knew where I was with this girl. One minute, I was sure she wanted to jump me, and the next, she was colder than ice. The hot-cold thing was wearing me out. I mean, I loved a crazy girl as much as the next guy, and she was the hot kind of crazy – but damn if I wasn't getting whiplash from her rapid mood swings!

Of course, I wasn't much better, I realized.

One minute I was snarling at her, and the next, I'd shoved my hand down her pants.

I needed some fucking perspective, and to get that, I was going to need my distance.

I left the café and wandered around, just walking up and down the sidewalks. Nothing was really open yet, since it was barely five thirty in the morning… but it was peaceful enough. I stumbled onto a small park, and made my way to a bench where I deposited my confused ass.

As I watched the sun rise, I had an epiphany.

I was in fucking love with the crazy hot barista.

I stared at the brilliant pink and purple streaks that filled the morning sky, and I fucking sighed like the lovesick little boy that I was.

Wasn't it too soon for this shit?

I mean, I'd only known her a few days.

I'd fallen hard and fast.

Wow.

I shook my head and pulled out my phone, debating whether or not to call the one person who could put the whole situation in perspective for me. It was nearly 3 a.m. in Washington… my dad would either be at work or asleep. If he was asleep, I didn't want to bother him. If he was at work, he might not even answer.

I took a chance and dialed anyway.

"Hello?"

"Dad, hey," I said lamely.

"Are you okay? Did something happen to one of you? What-"

"Dad!" I interrupted, rolling my eyes, but smiling anyway. "We're all fine." I heard his sigh of relief, and I chuckled.

"So now that I know you're all okay, I only have two questions. One, why the hell are you awake at-" he paused, presumably to check his watch. "-Five thirty in the morning, and two, why the hell are you calling me at two thirty in the morning?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something," I said hesitantly.

"Yes, son?"

"Would you… I mean, did you…" I fumbled for the right words. Fuck. Anything I said was going to tip him off, so why mince words? "How long after you met mom did you know you loved her?"

"I knew that I loved your mother within the first five minutes of talking to her. She was the most infuriating, argumentative, opinionated woman I'd ever met. I fell head over heels. It didn't hurt that she was gorgeous, too." I snorted.

"You knew you loved her because she argued with you?"

"You know how you feel when women purposely do and say the things you want to hear, just because they know you have money and they'll do anything to get to you and it?"

"Unfortunately."

"She did none of that. She wasn't afraid to let me know exactly what she thought of me, which wasn't much." He laughed, and I smiled. "She made me work for her attention, too. At first I sent gifts, but she sent most of them back."

"Most of them?" I asked.

"Well, she did keep a few here and there. She kept a bouquet of irises that I'd sent to her, and she kept a pashmina shawl my mom had picked out."

"Grandma Cullen helped you?" I asked incredulously.

"She absolutely did. She loved that Esme was resisting me, and it turned into a game for her to see what would break her down."

"What finally worked?"

"She'd just sent back a pair of expensive diamond and ruby earrings, and I was at my wits' end. What woman didn't want to be with a man who had money, and who could lavish the finer things in life on her? So I sat down and did the only other thing I could think of to do for a woman who wouldn't even accept my phone calls – I wrote her a letter."

"What did you say to her?"

"I told her how frustrated I was. I explained that I wanted to get to know her better, and that I wasn't sure how to do that, since she was unlike anyone I'd ever met before. I told her that I was confused about my feelings for her, and I really wanted to figure them out. It turned into a five page letter, when I'd only meant it to be a quick note. I spilled my figurative guts to her on paper."

"And?"

"I stood in the pouring rain for almost an hour, praying she would show up, and when she came out of the building her class was in, I shoved the envelope in her hands. I told her that I knew she hated me, but to please just read the letter. Two hours later, I was sitting in the little café we'd met in, and she walked in, dripping wet. She sat down across from me and dropped the letter on the table. I thought she was going to give it back – my heart sank. She stared at me for a minute, and then she asked me if I really meant it."

"And the rest is history?" I guessed. He chuckled.

"No, she still made me chase her. I told her every word of it was true, and then she explained to me that she'd sent the gifts back because she wasn't a whore and that my sending her expensive things made her feel like one."

"I can see that."

"But I wore her down eventually, thank God. So what's her name?" I hesitated.

"Bella."

"How did you meet?"

"Oddly enough… in a café." His rich laughter made me smile.

"Tell me about her." And I breathed a sigh of relief. He had been the right person to call, after all. He wasn't giving me shit. He understood.

"She owns the café. She gave Alice a job there."

"Really? So she has her own money."

"She doesn't even know about mine."

"You haven't told her yet?"

"No. I don't think she'd care, even if she did know."

"Sounds to me like you've got a keeper there."

"Yeah," I breathed, not even bothering to fight my own responding smile. "She's into the same music and books that I like. She makes a mean cup of coffee. She smells like cinnamon."

"And she's beautiful too." It wasn't a question.

"Gorgeous."

"Sounds like your mother," he mused. I laughed. "Except for the cinnamon. Esme always smells like strawberries."

"Okay, I'm not sure I like where this conversation is going," I teased. It was his turn to laugh.

"So what's the issue? Why the phone call?"

"I'm … I'm scared," I admitted. "This is happening fast. I've only known her for a few days. Isn't it too soon for this?"

"Ah, I see now. Well, are you sure about your feelings?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't see a problem. I can understand your worry over it, because you've always had the tendency to overthink things. I think that stems from your brother and sister being more impulsive. They let their hearts lead them, and you follow your head. It's bound to throw you out of your comfort zone when your heart demands to be heard."

"So you don't think it's too soon for me to be in love with her?"

"Not at all. Believe it or not, son, it _is_ possible in this day and age to fall in love fast. Falling in love is the easy part. It's the staying in love part that sometimes takes work, and people don't like working for anything. They think love just comes and stays. It doesn't work that way, and it's not always the easiest thing in the world – but if you really love her, you'll find a way to make it work for both of you."

"How do you always know just the right way to put things?"

"Ah, giving advice is easy. Your end of the bargain is harder – deciding whether or not to listen to an old fool – one who's still just as in love as the first time I saw her, by the way."

"I know, Dad. Thanks for talking me down. I feel better now. Give my love to Mom."

"I will. Once you get settled out there, we'll come visit too."

"I'll call and let you know as soon as we find a place."

"Good luck, son."

"Thanks, Dad. Bye."

I sat there a bit longer, and once the sky was fully lit up, I began meandering back towards the café. I stopped in a small book store and browsed. I paused in front of store windows and studied the displays. When I finally re-entered the café, I was surprised to see Emmett, the realtor he'd told me he'd already boned, and Alice and Bella all standing in front of the counter.

I'd never heard of a café bombón, but it looked good. A glance up at the chalkboard mounted on the wall above the service window showed that there was no such drink listed. My barista hadn't hesitated though, and had made it right away.

Lying to Alice through my teeth, and hoping she doesn't realize it, because that girl can sniff out a lie at less than a hundred paces.

Choking back a laugh when my feisty girl tells me that I need friends. Yeah, I wasn't playing fair anymore. I stuck out my bottom lip and fucking pouted.

It worked.

Her breathing got shallow, and her eyes honed in on my mouth.

Well, hello to you, too, baby.

I'm evil and must be destroyed? She's fucking funny. I love everything about this woman. And now I get a free slice of the sex cake too? Fucking _finally_, I will get to taste this damned thing!

_Fuck me._

Chocolate explodes across my taste buds. It's so moist, and not overly sweet. Not too heavy.

Perfect, just like her.

And without thinking first, I tell her we should get married, because… fuck, yeah. It's teasing but it feels right, too. And now I'm not so freaked out thinking about it, because my Dad made perfect sense.

I watch the pink rise on her cheeks, and wonder if she blushes in other places, too.

When she calls me a jackass, I feel the answering warmth flooding me, too.

And then I basically tell her that at some point, I'm going to have her in my mouth.

Yes and please. Now would be great, thanks.

Back to the crazy delicious cake and devouring it in two bites. Next time, I'll savor it.

I space out for a minute, and eventually realize that my meddling sister is telling me that Bella needs me. I'm almost embarrassed by how quickly my ass leaves my chair to go in search of her.

I try to let her off the hook in case she didn't actually want me in here, but she tells me to stay, and like a good little lapdog, I do just that. I can't cook, but I can sure as hell learn. I've suckered her into eating with me again. Fuck, but I love to watch her eat.

I tell her I'm going to perform at her open mic night, but she seems distracted. I push down the disappointment I feel, though I can't help but ask her why she's not interested.

Funny girl. Goddamn, I love her sense of humor.

Before I have a chance to clean up the water I've spilled, she slips in it. And then _hell fucking yes_, she's in my arms. She's embarrassed for almost falling, even though it's my fault it happened. Her face is pressed against my chest, and holy_fuckme_ – did she just fucking _sniff_ me? Thank god she wasn't closer, or she would've felt the titanium rod in my jeans, too.

Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamned cracker – she _moaned_.

That sound – that tiny, barely audible sound – shot straight to my cock, which was now no longer satisfied being tucked away in my too-tight jeans. No, he fucking wanted out.

"Fuck. Bella," I breathed, not far off from moaning myself.

She joked around and played it off, but it was burned into my brain. I was unable to focus. My hands were shaky. My breathing was irregular.

Thank god she didn't seem to notice.

Measuring and pouring and mixing, and learning more about her. Sharing things about myself that I wouldn't want anyone else to know, and it feels fanfuckingtastic. Time passes quickly, and I'm surprised at how reluctant I am to leave.

Sharing my ideas about how we could enjoy the sex cakes we'd just put in the oven, and oh hell no she did _not_ just throw her apron at me!

Teasing, covered in flour… so tempted to kiss her. So fucking insanely tempted.

Goddamn cock-blocking sister!

Bella had another opportunity to bolt from an intimate moment, and she took it.

Ignoring Alice's questioning gaze, and cleaning up as best I can in the café's bathroom. Waiting for Bella, and wondering what the hell is taking so long.

I ring her doorbell and hear her yell for me to come in. I walk up the stairs slowly, trying to calm my racing heart and sweaty palms – what the fuck? It's not a date.

It's not, goddamn it!

Getting to the top of the stairs and turning into the living room to see her on all fours on the floor, her glorious ass in the air, and the sliver of skin between her shirt and jeans is driving me insane. I see a scrap of what looks like purple lace poking up beneath her jeans.

I don't think my dick has ever done this to me before – it's a record of some sort. It's so hard, so fast, it fucking _hurts_. It's fucking making demands of me now.

_Want that. Now._

Jesus fuck!

And then I realize I've said it out loud and startled her. She has no fucking clue how much I want to devour every centimeter of her body.

Insulting her without meaning to, but then she snarks back and fuckmenowplease, her temper just makes me want her so much fucking more. I love a woman with fire.

Talking about her boobs and wanting to touch – she's killing me, here. How far away is the bedroom?

Lunch and some much needed respite from conversation as we walk. She likes the same sushi as me.

Spitting tea out because fuck, my girl is blunt. Taking another drink to soothe my dry throat, and she says a lover called her by his mom's name.

She's never had an orgasm? No one's ever gone down on her before?

What the fuck kind of assholes has she slept with?

Decision made without having to think it over – I will give her orgasms, and they shall be plentiful. And often. Very often.

Right now?

Down, boy!

And I _will_ be the first to taste her.

And the last, too, goddamnit!

Anal sex?

My brain has just short-circuited.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Teasing again, and then her teeth sink lightly into my arm. So goddamn hard, I could cut fucking glass with my cock. Leaning in to finally (fucking finally) kiss her, and cockblocked by my goddamn annoying phone.

Fucking simpering Tanya, trying to ruin my time with my fuckhot barista. I'm going to have to change my number so she doesn't reach me again.

Drop her at the café, then back to the hotel room to relieve some stress. I've beaten off so much in the last 48 hours that I fear my little buddy will fall off – or at the very least be too _loved_ already when I finally get a chance to put him in action.

Two orgasms, thirty laps, and a beer later, and I'm finally relaxed enough to see her again.

Seducing me with the fucking cinnamon – as if I needed another reason to want her.

Preparing my song, and hoping she'll listen. I pay attention to you, baby, even if you think I don't.

I want you, and I want you to want me, too.

Please love me, too.


	7. Chapter 6

**_Sorry it's taken so long for me to update - my internet's been down for a few days or this would've been up sooner. thanks again for reading!_**

I stared at him for as long as was allowed by social convention… oh, hell, who am I kidding? I stared longer than that. After the song had ended and he was putting up his guitar, I was _still_ staring. As he picked up the guitar case and made his way over to Alice, I was _still_ staring. When he sat down and sipped at a glass of water, I was _still_ staring.

I didn't stop staring until two beautiful, giggling women approached his table. No, that's a lie – I stared until he smiled back up at them. Then I fled back to the main dining room and hid behind the counter like I always do.

Time passed (thank fuck), and before I realized it, it was time to close. Angela checked the back room and brought all of the dishes to the kitchen. Leah chased away the lingering patrons and swept each room. When the dishes were finished and the chairs were on top of the tables, I thanked the girls and told them they could leave.

This time I was very careful to lock both the front and back doors before I went to the counter and turned up my music. Why was I in such a maudlin mood? I needed some music to fit my mood, since I still had to prep for the next morning. I glanced at my watch – it was nearing 12:30. If I wanted to get to bed and get a decent amount of sleep, I needed to get going.

I flipped through the CDs that were under the counter, even though I knew by heart what was there, and finally decided on one after staring at it for a minute. I slipped it in and pressed play, then pressed repeat. Oh yeah, I was gonna wallow for a while.

The music started, and I started to wipe down the counter when I realized that I would much rather sit down and wallow over a cup of coffee and a really, _really_ calorie-laden dessert. Or else I needed a beer. Or several.

Since I am lazy at heart, I chose to stay in the café and make a calorie-laden drink to go with my calorie-laden dessert – which just so happened to be a thicker than usual slice of cheesecake. Leah had gone to Lentini's with Jake for a late lunch before she'd come to work, and she'd brought it to me as a peace offering from him (since he had promised to bring me lunch after my foray into the bar with Edward and hadn't done it). I made a mocha and sat it aside. Then I dropped a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream into a tall glass and poured the mocha over it. I took it all and sat down at a table.

_Since I met you_

_I can't forget you_

_Oh, what am I gonna do?_

"Fuck, this is some depressing shit, Bella!" I started choking on my milkshake, and he rushed to smack my back.

"How the hell did you get in here?" I managed when I could finally breathe again. "I locked both doors!"

"Alice's keys," he said, righting another chair at my table and dropping down into it. He frowned. "You locked the doors? Were you trying to keep me out?"

"I was trying to keep _everyone_ out, since I'm closed," I snapped, playing with my straw. I refused to make eye contact with him – suddenly the condensation on the side of my glass was fascinating. There was complete silence for a moment, and then the song began again.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked quietly. "Because if you're upset over lunch, I wasn't making fun of you, or anything. I just-"

"I'm not mad at you," I sighed.

"Then what's wrong?"

"What makes you think that something is wrong?" I challenged.

"Oh, I don't know – let's see. You locked me out, you won't look at me, and you're playing your sad bastard music. All of that kind of leads me to believe that something is wrong. The fact that you haven't looked at me since I walked in makes me feel like you're upset with me. So what did I do?"

"Nothing," I said honestly, glancing up quickly. Because really, he hadn't done anything wrong. We weren't dating, we weren't fucking – I barely knew him well enough to call him a friend. He could smile at whomever he wanted to. He was staring intently at me, those green eyes of his almost burning a hole through me. "I guess I'm just suffering from PMS or something." I was sure as shit _not_ going to tell him that I was jealous, and come off as a clingy girlfriend when I hadn't even known him for a full week.

"Okay," he said slowly, looking pointedly down at my half-eaten cheesecake. What? I hadn't had time to go out and get dinner. I usually didn't on Friday and Saturday nights. "So what's this?"

"Dinner," I said, and to emphasize my point, I shoved a forkful of the cheesecake into my mouth.

"A piece of cheesecake and a milkshake are _not_ dinner, Bella."

"They are for me." He eyed my milkshake, and I pushed it towards him. "Try it."

"What the hell is it?" he reached for the glass, then yanked his hand back. His eyes widened in surprise. "The top is cold, but the bottom is hot!"

"Yeah – it's a mocha shake." I shrugged. I watched as his eyes darted behind me, and I frowned. "What?"

"It's not on the menu."

"I only make it for myself." He took a tentative sip. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he licked a tiny drop of liquid off of his bottom lip. I ogled him shamelessly until his eyes opened – and I quickly dropped my stare to the table top.

"This should be on the menu, post haste," he informed me, taking another (longer) drink. I smiled despite myself, and got up to turn the music off. I replaced the CD in its case, hung up the apron I hadn't realized I'd still been wearing, and returned to the table. I felt my jaw drop – he'd already sucked down more than half of the shake! He gave me an unapologetic shrug and grinned before finishing it off. "I won't apologize. Instead I'll just demand that you make me one every day."

I just stared.

At that moment, my stomach decided that the slice of cheesecake that I'd consumed was less than satisfactory, and it growled. Loudly. I could always just show up earlier than usual tomorrow morning and do my prep work. I sighed and motioned towards the door.

"I know you're enjoying yourself, Cullen, but I would like to go home at some point." I frowned. I realized that I hadn't even questioned his appearance here after closing. "What exactly are you doing here, anyway? Weren't you going to go out with your family-" or two blonde bimbos – "or something?"

He shook his head and watched as I grabbed my hoodie and pulled it on. We headed for the door, and I shut the lights off. "I came back to see if you wanted to go grab something to eat." I turned the key in the lock and sighed, remembering my earlier conversation with Alice about having eaten with him last night.

"No, I really just want to get home. I'm really tired." I turned just in time to see his face fall before he forced a smile. Shit.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then." He turned to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed a fist full of his leather jacket.

"Wait. You're welcome to come with me, if you'd like. I'm just going to make grilled cheese." His eyes lit up like I'd just offered him a new car or something.

"Really? I'd love to! I haven't had grilled cheese in a long time – probably since I was about fifteen." He followed me the six feet over to my door and watched as I opened it. I motioned for him to go in first, but he shook his head and motioned me forward instead. I sighed again and trudged tiredly up the stairs. When we reached the top, I gestured towards the living room.

"There's a TV and DVD player in there. The remote should be sitting on the couch – feel free to watch whatever you want to. I'm going to change, and then I'll fix our sandwiches." I turned and left him standing there, and went into my bedroom. I pulled a pair of worn cotton shorts off of the floor where I'd left them this morning, shrugged off my jeans, and pulled them on. Then I pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra, throwing them both in the corner of the room where my laundry basket was, and I tugged on my wifebeater. I went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for the Velveeta slices that I always kept.

Once I'd gotten the sandwiches into the pan, I opened a cabinet and pulled out a can of tomato soup. I could not eat a grilled cheese sandwich without tomato soup – it was a physical impossibility. I opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan, and then added some cream. When I did comfort food, I did it _right_.

"Something smells really…" I turned to see Edward's mouth wide open. I frowned – something I was doing around him a lot tonight – he was staring at me.

"What?" He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Nothing… I was just saying that something smells really good." He came all the way into the kitchen and stood behind me to see what I was doing. Tired though I was, my entire body tensed. My nerves were over-alert… I was on edge. He was so close that I could smell him – he still smelled like cinnamon. My weakness… and suddenly I was so hyper alert that I wasn't tired anymore. Fuck.

"Tomato soup, too?" I had to smile. He sounded so delighted.

"Edward, everyone knows you can't eat grilled cheese without tomato soup."

"Only the most awesome people know that, apparently," he replied, shrugging and turning his eyes back to the now bubbling soup. "My brother and sister wouldn't touch tomato soup with a ten foot pole." I snorted.

"You are invading my personal space bubble," I pointed out, waving the spatula in the air before I flipped the sandwiches. "It's hard for me to cook like this."

"No, _this_ is invading your personal space bubble." He pressed his chest to my back, and I swear I felt my eyes cross from the contact. His hands flew to my hips and gripped me tightly before pulling me back against him. I gasped, and his fingers tightened reflexively against my hips. The spatula I'd been holding clattered to the ground.

"Edward," I managed to breathe, hating the way my voice wavered.

"Bella," he answered, his breath hot on my ear. I shivered.

"The sandwiches are going to burn," I said quietly. I heard him mutter something and then his hands were gone, and my back was cold. I bent down and picked the spatula up, rinsed it off in the sink, and somehow managed to flip the sandwiches onto plates. I retrieved some bowls from the cabinet and ladled soup into them, grabbed some silverware, and took everything to the breakfast bar where Edward was sitting. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and put them on the bar before I chose my stool. I was too unnerved to look at his face, so I just began eating. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he dipped a corner of his sandwich into the steaming soup and raised it to his mouth. I pushed down the heat that tried to flood through me when I saw his tongue dart out and catch a drop of soup that had fallen on his lips.

"Jesus," he moaned. I finally looked over at him. I couldn't help but feel smug satisfaction when I saw the way he was looking at his soup.

"You're kind of freaking me out," I told him, not bothering to hide the amusement in my voice. "You look like you want to do bad things to the soup."

"Or maybe to the person who made the soup," he shot back, an eyebrow arching. I choked on my mouthful of sandwich, and he laughed. "Seriously, what did you put in this?"

"Cream."

"Cream?" he repeated, his brow furrowing.

"Heavy whipping cream," I specified, shrugging. "It makes the soup creamier and a little sweeter. It's a lot more fattening, but grilled cheese isn't exactly diet food, either. It tastes better than milk."

"My mom always used water," he mused, spooning more soup into his mouth. He was silent for a moment before turning to me. "This would be a good, simple menu item for the café." I rolled my eyes.

"Why do you and your sister keep bringing this up? The café is doing fine without the addition of food, and if I decided to serve food, I'd need more employees to help." He cleared his throat.

"I could – I could help you." I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head and continued before I could utter a syllable. "I don't have a job yet, and I believe in this." He gestured to the food in front of him. "I believe you have a gift – you are an amazing cook. Whether it's pastries, or comfort food, or even your coffee drinks, you have a talent for just knowing what tastes good. I believe – no, I _know_ – that whatever you serve would sell like crazy, and I want to be a part of it."

I'm sure I could have easily caught flies, my mouth was so wide open.

"It's just a can of condensed soup, Edward," I managed finally.

"It's not _just_ anything," he insisted. "Look, you're my friend, and friends listen to each other, right?" I nodded hesitantly. "You _need_ to serve lunch in the café. You could make a lot more money with hardly any more effort, and it would help to balance out the down time in the middle of the day. I am offering my help because I want to be a part of it. Please at least consider it?" My mouth had gone dry. I forced myself to nod, and he turned back to his food. He took another bite of his soup-dipped sandwich, and another moan – this one louder than the one before – escaped him.

"I can't serve food," I sighed. He frowned at me, but didn't say anything because he was busy chewing. "The customers would all choke when they hear the porno moans that you and your sister make while eating." He started coughing and reached for his water. I arched an eyebrow at him and tried to keep the smirk off of my face. Obviously it didn't work, because he narrowed his eyes at me. "Does Emmett do that, too?" I asked innocently.

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying flavors that explode on your tongue," he countered, his eyes leaving mine and traveling downward slowly. I bit down on my lower lip, knowing that my face was probably bright red at this point. "And I relish every flavor you've allowed me to taste so far."

Holy shit. Was it hot in here, or was it just him?

"Um," was the most intelligent thing I could muster. It was his turn to smirk. I rolled my eyes and finished my food in record time – it felt dangerous to have him here alone in my home… I wanted to show him the bedroom. Or lock him in it. You know, they're both pretty much the same. I stood and took my dirty dishes to the kitchen. Once they were in the sink, I picked up the bottle of Advil that I kept nearby and shook two of the pills into my hand before swallowing them. My head had really begun to ache. I supposed it had a lot to do with Edward, but it probably also had something to do with my hair still being tightly confined in its bun. I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Are you okay?" he asked, moving past me and putting his dishes in the sink. He turned and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed. No, I was so far from okay, it wasn't even funny. I wanted to do seriously bad, naughty things with the gorgeous man who was in my kitchen. I was going to lock him up here and chain him to the bed, and only release him to bathe, at which point I'd take him in the shower, and- "Bella?"

"What? Oh, sorry," I lied. I was so _not_ sorry. I would entertain dirty sexual thoughts about him any time I damn well pleased. And I did damn well please right the hell now. "I just have a headache."

"Stress?" He looked sympathetic. Stuff that shit – I didn't want his sympathy, I wanted his – "I can help with that." I was startled right out of my dirty thoughts. Holy fuck, he wasn't a mind reader, was he? Because that shit would be _so_ embarrassing…

"What do you mean?" I asked, hating the way my voice sounded all breathless. "Besides, it's just my hair. Sometimes I pull it back so tightly, it gives me headaches." He stared at me for a minute.

"Why don't you just leave it down?" Was it my imagination, or had his eyes gotten darker?

"You've seen how long my hair is." He gave a jerky nod. "It's heavy, and when it's down it gives me headaches, too. I don't mind it at home, but in the café, I keep it up because I don't want it to get into the coffee. I just need to take it down." I reached up, but he shocked the shit out of me by catapulting himself across the space and stilling my hands with his own.

"That's okay – I'll do it," he offered. "I mean, if you don't mind?"

"Um, I guess not," I acquiesced, my heart pounding suddenly.

"If you – if you have a brush and you don't mind, I could brush it for you, too," he said hesitantly. "I used to brush Alice's hair when we were little, and I kind of miss it." I ignored the butterflies that were flying around kamikaze-style in my stomach, and forced a smile.

"I can't imagine Alice having more hair than she does now," I admitted. "I think it would be nice." If he noticed how shy I suddenly felt, he didn't say anything. I went into my bedroom and retrieved my hairbrush, taking a second to take a deep, calming breath.

That shit never works.

I walked back to the kitchen, but he was gone. I found him in the living room, sitting on my couch. He looked up and gave me a weird smile, then spread his legs and patted in between them.

Oh mother of all that is holy, I was going to be _between his legs_. This was going to end disastrously, I could tell. I was not going to escape this without some kind of embarrassing word vomit. I hoped he didn't notice the way my hands were shaking as I handed him the brush and flopped to the floor in front of him. His denim-clad legs were on either side of me now, and I was suddenly enveloped in his scent. My eyes drifted closed, and I felt his fingers freeing my hair from its constraints. When it was totally down, he sifted his fingers through it, gently scratching my scalp with his fingernails. I couldn't stop the moan that escaped – it felt so good.

"Jesus," I thought I heard him whisper, but I wasn't sure. I was too focused on how good it felt to have him playing with my hair like he was. After a few minutes of him rubbing my scalp with his fingers, I felt him drag the brush lightly through my hair. I shivered when he did something that I love – at the end of my hair, he dragged the brush lightly against my back. I felt the goosebumps erupt all over, and my nipples tightened. Shit – this was rapidly entering dangerous territory.

But fuck me if I was going to stop him. This shit felt too good.

He dragged the brush gently through my hair again, and when I felt it on my back all the way down, I couldn't help myself – my back arched. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Bella – fuck," he whispered. Yes, Bella would like to fuck. Right now, please and thank you. I waited for him to begin again, and when he didn't I turned and looked at him, confused. His eyes were hooded and his chest was rising and falling with rapid breaths. He was gripping the brush so hard, his knuckles were white.

"What? Are you okay?"

"You just said you wanted to fuck," he blurted, his voice barely above a whisper. I felt the blood drain from my face.

"I did? I didn't think I said it out loud," I said, closing my eyes in embarrassment.

"You were thinking about it?" I barely opened one eye and peeked at him. He hadn't moved at all.

"I'm usually better at keeping my thoughts contained – except around _you_," I said, my voice full of accusation.

"Were you thinking about fucking anyone in particular?" He asked, placing the brush beside him on the couch and flexing his fingers.

"Um," I hedged, my eyes darting around. Was there a way to avoid this question without outright lying?

"Bella?" he prodded. He scooted forward until my face was almost in his crotch. Jesusfuck, was he _trying_ to kill me? "What? Why would I try to kill you?"

Damn it! My mouth needed to stop blurting out every damn thought I had, as I had it!

"I think you're hearing things," I said, scooting away from him a little. I needed to clear my head. The distance wasn't helping like it should have. Why did he cloud all of my senses and make me feel so out of control? "I need to… I need to go to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow and prep, since I didn't do it tonight."

I watched as his face fell, and after a minute, I saw him yawn. My nervousness melted away a little bit, and I contemplated whether or not what I was about to do was kind, or monumentally stupid on my part.

"If you want to-" I hesitated and met his eyes as he looked up. Was it my imagination, or did he look hopeful? "If you want to, you can spend the night. There's a bedroom upstairs, and another living room. You're welcome to play games or watch TV or whatever – there's a bathroom up there, too."

"You have another apartment upstairs?" he asked, glancing up. I shrugged.

"Not really. The only kitchen is here. Upstairs there's two more bedrooms, but one of them is only used for storage. I hardly ever go up there, so you'd have privacy."

"I'd love to stay, if you're sure it's okay."

"Absolutely. I'd feel better about it – at least you won't be driving home in this weather," I said, gesturing to the windows. He looked outside, and seemed startled to find that it was pouring down rain. I began walking towards the stairs and gestured for him to follow me. When we reached the third floor, I pointed out the bathroom, the storage room, and where he'd be sleeping. He looked inside the bedroom and frowned a little. "What?"

"It looks like a man's bedroom," he said, taking in the gray comforter and black furniture. "Did you – do you have men over a lot?" I bristled at his question. He thought I was a whore?

"No, it's where my Dad stays when he comes to visit me," I informed him. "I'm not going to ask my dad to sleep on a couch. Since he's the only person who stays with me on a regular basis, I have the room decorated for him. Okay, well not really _for_ him, since he'd probably want animals mounted on the walls, but still." I looked up and saw that he was grinning that crooked grin at me, and my heart stuttered.

"Calm down, Bella," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't mean anything by it. By the way, has anyone ever told you how incredibly cute you are when you're flustered?"

"Right," I scoffed. Inside I think I died a little. What woman wants a gorgeous man to think she's "cute?" Fuck. If I hadn't known before that he wasn't interested in me at all, I knew it now. "I'm going to head down to bed now. You can just let yourself out in the morning." I turned without waiting for an answer and practically ran down the stairs, taking two at a time. I turned off all the lights on my way to my room, and flopped down face-first on my bed when I got there. After a minute, I switched off the light that sat on my night stand, and the room was submersed into darkness. I crawled under the comforter, and faded blissfully into sleep.


	8. Chapter 7

My performance was over, and all I really wanted to do was talk to Bella. Had she even been listening? I couldn't tell – the spotlight on the stage and the dimmed house lights made it impossible to see anything in the room past the people sitting at the nearest table.

Where is she? Disappointment washes over me in waves. She hadn't seen –she hadn't heard. What else will I have to do to get through to this girl?

Slumping down at a table, waving my family away as they head out to a local bar – wondering if it's the bar that Bella took me to? Wallowing in my own stupidity for not making sure someone would bring her to listen to me play, when I hear giggling. Two beautiful blonde girls approaching me… I haven't had sex in a while, and Bella doesn't seem to be into me… why not? What harm would flirting do? Smiling back until I glance up and see my barista fading from the doorway.

Jesus, what the fuck is this burning in my chest? Fuck these chicks –their simpering and snide giggling shows me how different they are from what I want. Heading back out to the main dining room, and seeing that Bella's swamped with customers. Watching the sweat bead on her forehead, and suddenly my mouth is dryer than the fucking Sahara desert. Wondering what she'd look like with sweat pooling in other places on her body…

Goddamn, I need to get out of this fucking place until I can have her to myself. Watching her work is torture; seeing her fluid, confident movements behind the counter makes me ache to touch her. I want to taste her. More than that, I want to see her smile, and know that I was the reason she did. I want to feel her arms around me. I want to feel the heat of her temper directed at me.

Jesus fuck, I am a fucking emotional mess. Could I _be_ any more of a fucking woman?

Storming out of the café and into the chilly night air, and wondering what the hell to do with myself until she closes the place. First thing that pops into my mind is the bar – I'll have a beer to relax myself. Maybe I'll watch some TV.

Entering the bar, and realizing that it's different without her. Fuck, I've only been to this place once, and it's already tainted. Sitting down at the counter and ordering a beer from the guy who served us last time. How in the fucking hell did he get his teeth so white? He should be a fucking ad for a toothpaste company, or something.

"Where's Bells tonight?" He asks, as he sits the beer in front of me.

"Café's open until midnight tonight," I reply, shrugging. He stops wiping down the counter and looks at me – _really_ looks at me.

"Damn," he swears, shaking his head. "You too, huh?" I look up, confused.

"Me too, what?"

"How long have you known her?"

"Since Wednesday night – less than twenty four hours."

"Damn, you got hooked fast. I think that's faster than me. I was in love with her after two weeks." I stare at him, my mouth dropping open.

"You-"

"She doesn't know," he says, cutting me off. "And I'd like to keep it that way, got it?" I nod and frown.

"Why?"

"Got a good thing going with the friendship, and Bella's not interested in me that way. If she was, she'd have shown me by now."

"How?" I can feel my forehead wrinkling with my confused expression. He laughs and shakes his head.

"She gets jittery. Shaky hands, short breaths."

"How do you know it's not from the massive amounts of caffeine that she ingests every day?" I wonder aloud. He barks out a laugh.

"Could be, but I doubt it. I saw how she looked at you last night."

"What?" I ask, sitting up a little bit straighter.

"She's seriously into you. You should ask her out, if you haven't already."

"On a date?" I clarify, my mind racing. He rolls his eyes.

"Yes. To dinner, or something. Jesus, do it soon. You look sad as all fuck." I stare at him as he walks away to serve another customer. I down the rest of the beer and slide a ten across the bar before heading to the bathroom.

Killing time sucks. Walking around with my hands in my pockets, just waiting until it's time to head back to the café. When I get there, the door is locked. Why did she lock the door tonight, when it hasn't been locked the past two nights? I use the extra key that neither she nor Alice know that I have, and go inside.

Stevie Wonder? Really? Why is she listening to such a sad song?

I ask her just that, and she starts to choke on whatever she was eating. I smack her back. Fuck, why am I always fucking things up?

And what the fuck did I do that she won't even _look_ at me?

She needs to eat more than this junk.

I take it back – I could _live_ off of the shake, and be perfectly happy.

Here it is, Cullen. Your chance to man up, prove you have some balls, and ask her out.

Shot down… fuck. Few things in my life have ever felt this crushing.

Wait…

Yes! An invitation inside her home, and a homemade meal on top of it! That beats a dinner out any day of the week.

Letting her walk up the stairs before me, because goddamn, I'm only a man, and I want to see that sweet ass moving right in front of my face.

Dismissed as she goes to change, and wandering around her living room, since I didn't have the time to earlier. Noticing that she has only three photos anywhere in sight: one of her and an older man who is obviously her father (they have identical shit-eating grins on their faces), one of her and a woman who is obviously her mother (same hair color, same nose, same figure), and one of her with a man who looks roughly her age. He has sandy blonde hair, and has his arm around her waist. Instantly my blood is boiling. She's smiling just like he is, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

Deciding to go offer my help in the kitchen when I smell what promises to be the most amazing meal ever wafting out from the kitchen.

My words die in my throat when I take in the flimsy tank top and short shorts. And then I have to get closer. It's not an option to be all the way across the room when I could be nearer. I make you nervous, don't I, baby? You don't realize it yet, but it's because you want me, too.

Saliva pools in my mouth in anticipation of the soup, until she makes a comment about her personal space, and then I can't resist.

Jesus fuck goddamn son of a fucking bitch – this is too much, and not enough at the same time. My fingers digging into her hips as I press myself against her back, and getting a whiff of her skin. Inhaling deeply and feeling drunk on the smell of coffee and cinnamon – I could stay like this forever.

Whispering her name in her ear, my lip brushing against the shell of it, and feeling her tremble.

_I want you. _

Backing off, and glad that she hadn't heard my whispered statement.

Incredible… I've never tasted tomato soup like this before. Is everything she makes just amazing because she's the one who did it?

Arguing over food in the café, and then she goes and teases me by asking about my brother. Jealousy flares up, hot and angry, in the pit of my stomach. Teasing her back about tasting her again, and not for the first time, she looks uncomfortable and shuts down.

My girl has a headache. She isn't feeling totally herself – that much is clear. I can think of a thing or two that gets rid of headaches pretty damned fast…

Fuck, no! If someone's going to take her hair down, I want it to be me! She looks surprised, but she agrees.

GODFUCKINGDAMN, she is right _between my legs._ Can we never move again, please?

Her hair is so soft. So fucking soft. It's like silk, just like I knew it would be.

Moaning.. ohgodohgodohgod. How am I supposed to keep my cock in my pants when she moans like that?

I AM GOING TO DIE. She said she wants to… could I have heard her right? Was it an invitation? Did she read my fucking perverted one-track mind? Has she known all along? I can't move… what the hell do I do now? Do I just lean over, and-?

Fuck, fucking deflected again. I know she's not confident in her sexual skills, but goddamn… how can she _not_ know how much I fucking want her? Clearly I'm not showing her enough.

About to be kicked out, and then offered a chance to stay… hell fucking yes, I'm not going any damn where.

Find your own goddamned ride tomorrow morning, Alice. I'm not passing up a chance to wake up and see my girl first thing.

As I send off the text to let her know to have someone else bring her… somehow, I think she'll be okay with it.


	9. Chapter 8

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. A quick glance at the clock on my bedside table made me blink, rub my eyes, and double check it.

It was four o'clock in the fucking morning! I still had fifteen minutes to sleep – who the fuck was…. I exhaled in my frustration and picked up the phone.

"Alice, I still had fifteen minutes left," I whined. "I need every second of it, too."

"How'd you know it was me?" She wondered, entirely too chipper. "I was just calling to tell you that you can sleep in. Angela and I have the opening covered."

"What?" I asked, sitting up. "But Angela's never-"

"And it's time she knew how," Alice replied, her voice brooking no arguments. "And I know how to open."

"What if someone orders something that you don't know how to make?" I asked, panicked.

"Then Angela can show me. She's been working for you for a while – she knows enough. Seriously, I do not want to see your face here until after lunch time!" With that, she hung up. I stared at the phone in my hand.

There was no way I was going back to sleep now, exhausted or not. I got out of bed, used the bathroom, and padded into the kitchen. I wasn't really hungry, but habit dictated that I ate as soon as I got up. I started the coffee pot percolating, and put two slices of bread in the toaster before rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"What the fuck are you doing? Shouldn't you be down there already?" I spun around in surprise. I'd forgotten that Edward had stayed the night here. I watched, dumbfounded, as he scratched his stomach. He was only in his t-shirt and boxers, and his hair was sticking straight up. I felt my eyes widen, and I bit my lower lip in an effort not to laugh at him. He frowned.

"Alice called and woke me up to tell me to stay in bed."

"Yeah, that sounds like Alice logic. Call and wake you up, just to tell you to stay asleep," he said, punctuating his sentence with a huge yawn. I felt myself echo it back to him, and he frowned again. "Let's go back to bed."

Ignoring the fact that my stomach was doing repeated backflips because he'd just said the two of us should be in bed (together? Yes, please), I gestured towards the coffee pot. "I've already started the coffee."

"It'll be here when we wake up," he said, sounding entirely too logical. I stood frozen as he approached and grabbed my hand. My feet moved as he tugged me towards my bedroom, and I prayed that he couldn't hear the wild pounding of my heart as he collapsed on my bed and patted the empty spot beside him… which just so happened to be the side that I slept on, anyway. He must have seen my hesitation. "Don't worry, I'm not going to try anything. You must be fucking exhausted."

Of course he wasn't going to try anything – he thought I was "cute." I had already been relegated to the friend-zone. This was what, in spite of my better judgment, made my decision for me. I moved to the bed and lowered myself next to him. He pulled the duvet over both of us, and before I had time to second (and third, and quadruple) guess it, I faded off into dreamland.

Mmm… what was that smell? I snuggled closer and breathed it in deeply. Fresh laundry, cinnamon, coffee, and just a hint of… smoke? It was heavenly. I sniffed again, and froze when a rumbling came from the same direction as the smell.

"Bella, baby, you're killing me," a voice rasped. My eyes flew open, and I found myself staring into a pair of green eyes. I tried to jerk away, but his arms had somehow snaked around me, and he held fast. "Please don't move. I don't want to get up just yet." I stared at him.

"What the motherfuck are you doing in my bed?"

"Don't you remember?" He asked, frowning. "Alice called this morning, and…" I turned my eyes to the window, which was flooding light in at an angle that I usually only saw on Sunday mornings. I felt panic welling up inside my chest. What was going on in my shop? "Relax, she's got it covered. She sent me a text not even twenty minutes ago. Everything's fine." I relaxed slightly (though not _completely_) and turned my eyes back to meet his.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Just since I got the text."

"What time is it?"

"Seven." I squeezed my eyes shut. Technically, my café had only been open for an hour and a half, but anything could have happened in that time.

"Shit," I breathed.

"Hey," he began. I felt him brush the hair away from my forehead, and my skin tingled where he touched it. "It's okay. Obviously you needed some rest." I felt a feather-light touch beneath my eyes, but refused to open them, just in case this was a dream. If I opened my eyes, the easy touches might stop.

"Do I have bags under my eyes?" I muttered, wondering if I could pinch myself without him seeing.

"A little bit," he admitted. "You don't get enough rest." My eyes flew open, and I rolled them at him, which brought a smile to his lips.

"As if you know," I shot back. "You've known me for what, _maybe_ sixty hours?"

"Took less than that to get you into bed with me," he smirked. My mouth fell open, and I glared at him. I smacked his arm. "Ow! Shit! Jesus, Bella, I was only joking!"

"You're a fucking pervert."

"Yeah, so you say, but I noticed that you have yet to move," he pointed out. I felt my face flame, and I tried to push him away. He held on tight. Strong fucker. "Don't. Please don't move. I'm sorry. I seriously don't want to get up. I haven't slept so well in – well, in a while. Please?"

"Fine, but I won't forget how you _begged_ me." He barked out a surprised laugh, and despite myself, I smiled.

"I am _very_ willing to beg, if that's what it takes," he said, shifting us so that my head was lying in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. It felt strange at first, because I wasn't used to touching someone like this – and then, after several minutes, when it became clear that he'd meant it when he'd said he wouldn't try anything – I relaxed, and enjoyed the closeness. My eyes drifted closed again. I was almost asleep again when his soft voice interrupted the silence. "Bella?"

"Hm?"

"Who's with you in the pictures on your bookshelf?" I thought for a few moments.

"My dad, my mom, and … Mike." I felt his arm tighten around me, and then his fingertips lightly stroked the skin of my upper arm. I was glad to be lying down, because I was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded.

"Mike? The douchebag who cheated on you in your own café?" He sounded angry. "Why the fuck would you keep a photo of him in your apartment?"

"I don't know," I admitted, attempting a shrug. "I think more than anything, it's just to remind myself that someone wanted me."

"Bella, baby," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. I could feel him press his face against the top of my head. His warm breath tickled my scalp, and – wait. Had that been a _kiss_? On the top of my head, but still… "You shouldn't think like that. That guy was an asshole."

"Yeah, he was," I acquiesced. "But the frames came in a set of three, and I want to keep them together." He chuckled, and I could feel the rumbling in his body from it, which brought forth an answering smile from me.

"Fine, keep the frames. But we're going to replace that picture today," he promised.

"What, with you?" I wondered aloud.

"Yes, me. Do you have a camera?"

"Of course I have a camera."

"Where is it?"

"What is this, twenty questions? It's in my purse."

"Where's your purse?"

"In the hallway, on the table, where I always keep it. _Why?_" I asked, exasperated.

"Damn. We could've taken a photo right now."

"In _bed?_" I shrieked. "With bed-head?"

"Oh! I have my phone- I'll just take it with that!" He reached over to my nightstand, where he'd apparently set his phone down. He pushed a few buttons, and then held it above us. I buried my face in his shoulder to hide it, but I could hear him clicking away anyway.

"Edward! Cut it out!"

"You may as well just give up and let me get one good photo."

"No! Has it not occurred to you that we are _in bed_? And that neither of us has brushed our hair, or has decent clothes on? I can't put that in a frame in my living room! What would people think?"

"Who gives a flying fuck, when you and I both know what really happened, and we're the only ones that matter?"

He had me there. But still, it was the principle of the thing…

"What if _Alice_ sees them?" I huffed. He froze for a moment.

Yes! I had him!

…until he shrugged and kept taking more pictures.

"Who gives a rat's ass? These pictures would put Alice over the fucking moon. Maybe if she saw them, she'd think her plan worked, and she'd stop matchmaking with us." And there was my confirmation, if I hadn't had it last night, that he held absolutely zero interest in me as anything more than a friend. I suppose I should be grateful that he wasn't just another guy who only wanted one thing from me, but it stung. It stung so badly that I could feel tears pricking behind my eyes.

"Bella, I'm going to keep taking pictures, even if you don't turn around. You don't really want me to show Alice a bunch of photos of me and the back of your head, do you?"

"It's too early to smile," I hedged, hoping to God that he hadn't heard the way my voice wavered.

"Oh, you're just having trouble smiling? Well, I can take care of that, then." Before I had a chance to ask what he meant, he shifted and suddenly there were fingers poking at my sides. I'm ashamed to admit that I squealed like a pig. "I thought you might be ticklish…" He continued to poke me.

"Edward, stop!" I yelled between giggles. I squirmed against him. I was going to pee the bed if he didn't stop soon.

"It's your turn to beg me, Miss Swan," he said, his voice low and teasing. I gasped for breath.

"No!" Suddenly he was above me, pinning me to the bed with his body.

"Wrong answer." More poking, more fingers probing my side. I shrieked.

"Fine. I beg! I'm begging! Please stop!" His fingers stopped their movements, and I sucked in some much needed air.

"You begged me," he pointed out, smirking. I made eye contact and smirked back.

"Yeah, I begged you to _stop_, not to keep going." His eyes darkened, and his smirk faded. His eyes dropped down to my mouth, and I felt my heart pounding even harder inside my chest than it had been during the tickling. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was about to kiss me. Before either of us could move, though, there was a muffled chiming noise. I frowned and turned my head to the left. The chiming noise came again, and Edward moved off of me, reaching under the pillow and extracting his phone.

"Alice wants me to remind you that you're not allowed to step so much as a toe inside the café before one o'clock."

"What?" I sat up, sputtering. "The hell with that! It's _my_ shop, does she not realize that? I can go in any damn time I want to!"

"Why don't we grab a bite to eat, and then we'll head in and I'll help you make my sister see reason?" he suggested, his eyes locked on his phone. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So you're going to help me stand up to your sister?" I asked suspiciously. His eyes flickered over to me.

"I'm considering it. But only if you take your time and enjoy eating – I won't agree to a goddamned thing if you scarf your food down."

"Fine. I won't rush. But I don't promise to enjoy it!" I huffed, getting off of the bed, and stomping to my dresser, and pulling out a pair of clean jeans. Shit! I forgot that I'd worn my last white shirt yesterday… oh well, a green one would just have to do. Ignoring the fact that Edward was still in the room (his eyes were glued to his phone – what was he doing with that thing, anyway?), I yanked off my pajama shorts and pulled the jeans on. Then I just threw on my t-shirt over my wife beater. I stomped out of the bedroom and went into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth. When I finished that, I began brushing my hair, pulling the brush through with violent strokes.

"You're hurting _me_, and it's not even my hair." I jumped a little, and then turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He'd put his jeans and shoes back on already. It just wasn't fair – why was he so damned good-looking? And, I realized with a start, he'd spent the entire night in my apartment, and not a fucking solitary thing had happened. Jesus, was he fucking gay, or was I just that repulsive? "Bella? Earth to Bella – did you even hear me?"

"What? Sorry – I was just thinking about tomorrow," I lied. He frowned a little.

"What's tomorrow?"

"Laundry and football."

"Football?"

"The Steelers play at one," I said absently, my focus back on my hair.

"But the game isn't televised," he argued. I pulled my hair up and secured it in a tight bun before turning back to him.

"I have Sunday Ticket. I watch _all_ of the games."

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head a little bit. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"I kind of feel like a lazy bum right now," I admitted, following him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. "I haven't missed a morning of work in –" I followed him outside and locked the door – "Well, in a long time."

"So missing a few hours of work makes you a lazy bum?"

"Yes." We began walking in the opposite direction of the café.

"So what does that make me, I wonder?" I gave him a sideways glance, only to find that he was staring intently at me.

"It makes you someone who just moved here," I answered, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Besides, you've been helping out in the café the last two days."

"I suppose."

"Where are we going?"

"I thought you knew."

"So you just started walking, with no destination in mind?" I rolled my eyes.

"I figured you would guide me. All I know is that the Mexican place is down here. Is there anything else within walking distance, or should I get my car?"

"There's a place two blocks up, around the corner. They serve breakfast all day, every day."

"Is it an IHOP?"

"Hell, no. In the scant two days that you've known me, have you not figured out that I support local mom and pop owned businesses, and not big corporate chains? It's the big chain coffee shops that want to put me out of business! We small business owners have to stick together."

"I see that now," he said, laughing. I pointedly ignored the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and kept walking. "Is this place pretty good?"

"Of course it is. It could kick IHOP's ass any day of the week."

"I'll be the judge of that. And hey-" He paused, and I turned to look at him. "Thanks for dinner last night, and for letting me stay over. It was nice."

I floundered for a moment. What was I supposed to say to that? This morning _had_ been nice, even though I wasn't going to admit that to Alice. I was wondering whether or not I should admit it to Edward, either. On one hand, it might boost his ego and make him even more insufferable… but on the other hand, not telling him might mean that it would never happen again.

"It was nice," I admitted hesitantly, opening the diner door for him. He grinned and I knew I had made a mistake. I rolled my eyes, and he laughed.

"Which part was your favorite?"

"Edward, don't make me hurt you."

"Bella, I might like it too much."

"God!" I huffed, frustrated but smiling. I smacked his arm. "Why don't you ever shut up?"

"Why do you continue to indulge me?" He laughed. I ignored him and slid into a booth, and wisely, he followed suit, sliding in across from me. "You love me, and you know it. You wouldn't be able to make it through a day without seeing my wonderful face now."

"We could try and see how it works," I answered hopefully. He snorted and shook his head. Fuck me, why hadn't I seen before now that he had dimples? Not super deep dimples like his brother, but he definitely had them. I wanted to lick them. The desire I'd had the first time I'd laid eyes on him – to lick his jaw – was still firmly in place. Why had I become a walking hormone in the last two days?

"You're mean, do you know that?" he asked, laughing. He was doing that a lot this morning, I noticed. I wondered if that's all it took, was for someone to cook for him. Then I began to wonder when was the last time that anyone had done it, before me. I could feel the frown lines wrinkling my forehead as the waitress approached and took our drink orders. When she was gone, I looked up and caught his concerned expression.

"What?"

"What are you thinking about, that makes you look so sad all of a sudden?" I toyed with the idea of lying to him.

"When was the last time before last night that someone else cooked for you?" I wondered aloud. He blinked and cleared his throat, but before he could reply, the waitress brought our drinks. My Coke and a cup of black coffee, and his coffee and orange juice. I watched him silently as he poured three creamers and three packets of sugar into his coffee, and I sipped at my soda. The waitress stayed around and took our orders – I ordered a ham and cheese omelet with hash browns and white toast, and he got the same. It was weird how we shared certain food preferences, I thought. When the waitress was gone, I took a long pull of my coffee (still black – I rarely drank it that way, but this morning I needed the extra jolt of caffeine. The slow start to my day was making me feel like I was moving through water, or something) and waited for him to talk.

"It's been a while," he admitted finally. "Probably Christmas. I lived with Emmett before we moved, and we're the absolute stereotype of men when it comes to cooking. We ate pizza and burgers almost every night. Sometimes Alice and Jasper would bring over Chinese or something, but none of us ever cooked. Mom always cooks on Christmas, but that's about it anymore."

Oookay. So did he like that I'd cooked for him, even though it had only been soup and sandwiches? I wondered if the gesture meant more to him than I'd thought. I was about to find out… was I really going to do this? I cleared my throat.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'm going to hang out at the hotel and swim my ass off," he said, giving me a crooked grin. I gave him what was probably a watery smile at best. "Why?"

"Well, if you change your mind, you're welcome to come over and watch the game with me. It's no big deal – I mean, I was just going to make a pot of chili, and-"

"What time? Do you need me to bring anything?" I felt my cheeks warm. Yeah, food was definitely going to be a big factor in any time we spent together, apparently.

"Bring the beer, and we'll be good," I said, nodding. "The game starts at 1. The chili will be ready by then."

"See? I knew you couldn't go a day without seeing me," he teased. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't make me regret my invitation, Edward," I sighed.

Conversation flowed a bit more easily after that. We ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the food, and chit-chatted about his family. When we'd finished, he insisted on paying – but I got him back by leaving a tip. A $20 tip. Our waitress was going to be a very happy young lady when she saw it. We were walking out of the diner when he stopped and turned to me.

"Thanks."

"For what? You paid, you Neanderthal bastard. Or has your caveman brain short-circuited and made you forget that already?" He grinned.

"So I'm a Neanderthal now?"

"Obviously you're a caveman, because women pay for their own stuff all the time nowadays. Seriously. You should look this shit up."

"I know women pay for things," he said defensively, holding his hands up. "But my mom raised me right, and if she ever found out that I let you pay for something when we were out together by _my_ invitation, she'd kill me."

"Speaking of female family members killing you – you'd better run before I get back to the café. Alice will have your ass for not keeping me out long enough." I laughed.

"Want to play hookey with me a little bit longer? I want to go get some of these pictures printed out."

"What?"

"The pictures I took of us with my phone."

"You mean the ones of you with the back of my head," I corrected, laughing.

"Where's a good place to do that around here – or do I have to drive to that damned Wal-Mart again?"

"There's a shop just down the street that does film developing, but I don't know if they have a kiosk to hook your cellphone up to." I pointed down the street in the opposite direction we'd come from. "This is my stop."

"So it is," he agreed. He shot me one panty-melting, heart-stopping grin before backing away from me in the direction I'd pointed him to. "I guess I'll see you later." And then he was gone. I stared after him for a minute, and then pushed open the door to the café. Alice looked up as soon as the door opened, and she frowned and made a big show of looking down at the delicate silver watch on her left wrist.

"You aren't supposed to be here for another four hours, Bella. Where is my brother? I know you were with him this morning! Did he tell you where he was all night?" I felt my face begin to burn as I hurried past her. She had no intentions of letting me get away that easily, though, and she chased after me. "Bella!"

"What? Your brother had some things to do, so he left." I grabbed my apron from beneath the counter and slipped it on. "Thanks for opening for me, but next time you decide to take over my business, please let me know ahead of time."

She wasn't deterred in the least by my smart-assedness.

"Oh, stop it! I _know_ he spent the night with you last night!" she jumped and clapped her hands gleefully. I sighed and smacked my forehead against the wall once.

"It wasn't like that," I swore. "He slept on the third floor, and I slept in my bedroom on the second floor." She stopped bouncing on the balls of her feet and looked at me.

"So… nothing happened?" Why did she sound so damned disappointed?

"No, Alice, nothing happened. I made us some soup, we ate, and then we went to bed in completely different beds. That's all that happened – until you called and woke me up this morning, and then I couldn't get back to sleep!" I moved behind the counter and started prepping for the salted caramel mocha I'd wanted yesterday.

"But I thought-"

"You thought what? That if you kept trying to throw us together, we'd fall madly in love?" I asked, exasperated. "Stuff like that doesn't happen, Alice. Not in real life."

"So you don't like Edward?" She asked slowly, frowning at me. My face felt like it had erupted in flames, and she sighed. "I know you do. Why won't you make a move? You have to know that he likes you, too."

"Maybe he would, until we slept together. And then what, Alice? Do you know how awkward that would make things between you and I, with you working here? When your brother decides that mediocre sex once is way more than enough?"

"Edward's not as shallow as you seem to think he is," she protested. I sighed and topped my drink with whipped cream, then caramel sauce, and finally, a sprinkle of sea salt.

"Maybe not. But I'm not sure it's worth it to even try. Besides, I think blondes are more his type. And if it will make you feel any better, he's hanging out with me tomorrow." She brightened up at this news.

"What are you guys doing?"

"He's coming over to watch the Steelers game with me."

"Oh, ugh," she said, wrinkling up her nose. "The Steelers. Emmett has made so much fun of Edward for loving them so much. Emmett's a Seahawks fan. The only reason I remember anything is because Jasper taught me – he's a Cowboys fan."

"Jasper's a sad bastard in general then, isn't he?" I laughed. Then her words sunk in. "Wait – did you just say that Edward is a Steelers fan?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't he tell you that? Isn't that why you invited him to watch the game with you?"

"No, he never said a word."

"Weird." She gave me an odd look and opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and turned to greet a customer instead. I fell back into a rhythm inside the café, though somehow my whole day felt off because of its odd beginning. The lunch time rush came and went, and I was surprised to find that I kept looking for Edward to come in. He never did, and I couldn't decide whether I was upset about that or not.

Alice left the café around three to go home for the day, and Angela had left at one. Leah was closing with me, and I found that I missed Alice's bouncy personality. She engaged the customers and kept me talking, too. Without her in the café, things seemed too quiet.

The rest of the evening progressed as every Saturday night before it had before the Cullens came – the live band showed up, played a couple of sets, and then left. College kids came in for their late-night fix of sugared goodies and strong coffee drinks. When it finally reached closing time, I found that I was glad to see Leah leave, and to be able to lock the doors. That was unusual for me, since I usually enjoyed every moment in the café. It had to have something to do with the late start to my day – which wasn't going to happen again, if I had anything to say about it.

I flipped through the CDs beneath the counter, selected one that I'd burned myself, and put it in. I went into the kitchen and began doing the dishes, and I started singing and swaying to the music. Why was my mood so off tonight? I finished the dishes and listened as the song changed. In the middle of cleaning the espresso machine, I paused to listen to the lyrics.

_I know we all, we all got our faults_

_We get locked in our vaults, and we stay…_

'_Cause when you're gone, all the colors fade_

_When you're gone, no New Year's Day parade_

_When you're gone, colors seem to fade_

Is that… fuck. That _couldn't_ by why my day was off… could it? I sank down hard, hitting my tailbone on the tiled floor, and dropped my head into my hands. Edward hadn't been in to see me since breakfast. For the last forty eight hours, I'd seen him pretty much nonstop. Could that really be what was wrong? Surely not… I'd known him for two days, for chrissakes! Surely I couldn't be –

I didn't…

"Bella?" I'm startled enough that I scream, and he holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you – I just-" he stopped and looked at me before moving closer and crouching down beside me. "Jesus, are you okay? You're shaking! I'm sorry I scared you, I didn't mean-"

"No, it wasn't you," I said, shaking my head. I hadn't realized that I was shaking, and I was more than just a little mortified that he_ had_. "It's just been a long day, is all."

"Yeah, Alice told me you didn't even take a lunch break while she was here. She really fucking tore me a new one for bringing you back so early."

"Sorry. I think it threw my whole day off, though," I admitted. "I'm not used to not being here in the mornings, and it felt strange to come in so late."

"Is that all that's wrong?" He prodded gently.

"Why, isn't that enough?" I asked, giving a shaky laugh. He studied me for several minutes without moving or saying anything. "I'm fine, I've just had a shitty day." I moved to stand up, and he stood and held his hand out to help me up.

"You're sure that nothing else is wrong?"

"Yes, Cullen, I'm sure. What are you doing here, anyway?" I wondered aloud, shutting the music off. "I was just about to go home."

"I thought that since you hadn't eaten all night, I'd take you out. I'm not taking no for an answer, and I know you haven't eaten, so don't even think about arguing. I also wanted to show you something."

"Oh?" I watched as he reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope, which he extended to me. I took it and began to open it.

"It took me all day, but I managed to find a place that would print these out."

I snorted, because the first ten or so photos were of him laughing with the back of my head. My amusement died when I saw the next several pictures, though – the ones where he'd begun tickling me. My breath caught in my throat – they were beautiful. I'd never seen myself laugh like that before; I didn't know I _could_. And the look on his face was glorious. Mischievous, childlike… _happy_. God, we both looked so happy. A strange ache began in my chest, and I pulled my favorite photo of the bunch out. Our heads were close together and our smiles were so big, they should have hurt our faces. My eyes were closed, and his were open, but Jesus, it was so _beautiful_.

"I'm keeping this one," I said, not bothering to ask.

"They turned out good for cell phone pictures, don't you think?" His voice was quiet, and I really didn't care if it was because he was watching me trace our faces with my fingertip.

"Yeah, they did," I said after a minute.

"So, are you ready to go eat, or what?" His voice was back to normal. I started to protest, but he cut me off. "If you say no, I'll just follow you home and order pizza. I've already got a delivery place on standby." He waved his cell at me, and I sighed.

"Fine. Pizza's fine. I just want to get home and shower – I'm ready for this day to be over." His face crumpled a bit, and I realized what I must have sounded like. "Shit, no! I didn't mean it like that, Cullen, I swear. I'm such a bitch. Please, ignore my bad mood. I didn't mean anything about you when I said that."

"Okay, but I won't forget that you just begged me again," he said, the teasing light back in his eyes. I rolled my eyes at him, but I was happy that he seemed to understand. He waited outside while I doubled checked everything and locked the doors. By the time we got up the stairs that led into my home, he'd informed me that he'd already called for the pizza.

"Seriously? What the fuck? What if you ordered something I didn't like?" I asked, dropping my purse on the hall table, and toeing my shoes off. I kicked them to the side and went into the kitchen, where I carefully attached the photo of the two of us to the refrigerator with a magnet. He stood in the doorway, watching. "What? Haven't you ever seen someone use magnets before?"

"That's my favorite, too."

"Why did you let me take it, then?"

"I have the originals, I can print them out any time I want to," he said, shrugging.

"In that case, I want them all," I demanded, holding my hand out. He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and dropped it into my opened palm. "I was kidding. Damn."

"I had an extra set printed for myself." I blinked, and he laughed.

"You're an asshat!" I declared, gripping the envelope and taking it into my bedroom. I dropped it on my nightstand and grabbed a pair of flannel pajama pants, a fresh t-shirt, and clean underwear. When I turned around, I almost screamed. He was standing in the doorway to my bedroom! "Jesus fuck, Cullen! Are you a creeper now, too? I'm going to go take a shower. Make yourself comfortable."

"Was that an invitation?"

"Cullen, go sit in the living room," I snapped, hoping that it was dark enough that he couldn't see the way my face burned. He laughed and left the room. Unfortunately, my shower was not as relaxing as I'd hoped, because it was invaded by thoughts of green eyes and the smell of fresh laundry and cinnamon. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd known the guy three days, and I was already so attached to him that he invaded my every thought. Maybe I'd gotten it wrong and it wasn't _him_ who was the creeper. Jesus.

I finally dried off, dressed, and went into the living room, where the smell of pizza greeted me.

"It's already here?" I asked, surprised. He already had a box flipped open and a half-eaten slice in his hand. I was surprised again when I saw bottles of my preferred brand of beer on the coffee table next to the pizza boxes. I sat down beside him and inspected the pizza.

Pineapples and ham. Fuck me. Either this guy was a creepy mind-reader, or he actually did like all the same shit I did. I didn't know whether to be head over heels in love, or run-for-the-hills terrified.

"What do you mean 'already'? You were in there for nearly thirty minutes."

"Sorry," I said, reaching for a slice of pizza. He uncapped a bottle of beer and sat it in front of me. "I'm kind of surprised. I've never met anyone else who likes Hawaiian pizzas."

"I figured you might appreciate it. My family hates them, too."

"What made you think I'd like it?"

"Call it a lucky guess." He shrugged, and I chewed thoughtfully.

"You know this doesn't get you out of bringing beer tomorrow," I said, picking up my bottle and waving it at his face before taking a deep swig.

"I know. I already brought it."

"You what?"

"I had it in the car – I brought it up while you were in the shower. It's in your fridge – I hope you don't mind."

"Um, no," I said, biting into the pizza again. We were quiet for a while as we devoured the pizza. I hadn't realized how hungry I'd actually been, and not for the first time tonight, I was grateful that Edward was here. I was glancing around the room when my eyes lit on the set of three picture frames that he'd asked me about. He'd changed the photo of me and Mike! Instead of Mike's smiling face and my false happiness, I saw Edward's beautiful eyes and a _real_ smile from me.

"I didn't throw it away, in case you wanted to keep it," he muttered. I turned and looked at him. He shrugged. "I have it if you want it. I didn't know what to do with it, but it's not mine to throw away, so… yeah."

"Throw it away," I said decisively. The corners of his mouth turned up a little as I drained the last of my beer.

"Yeah?"

"You're right, he was a douchebag. He still is. You can throw it away."

"What do you mean, 'he still is'?" He uncapped another beer and slid it towards me.

"He still comes in to the café from time to time. He's still a jackass."

"How can he have the nerve to show his fucking face to you, after what he did?" He fumed. Fucking hell, Edward, don't make me like you any more than I have to, please, I thought.

"He hasn't shown me his _fucking_ face, ever – I always kept my eyes shut, so I never saw it." Edward's eyes widened, and then he laughed – long, and loud.

"Fuck, Bella. You always surprise me." I shrugged and tried not to look too pleased. I was actually kind of glad that I'd invited him over tomorrow, even though it made me feel a tiny bit creepy, since we'd only known each other for three days. But I'd already let him sleep over, hadn't I? Shit. I was lucky he wasn't a mass murderer. But the thought of having company to watch the game with brought me around to another thought.

"So… hey, why didn't you tell me you were a Steelers fan?" I blurted. He blinked at me, then took a drink of his beer. I recognized it for the same stalling technique that I use.

"It was Alice, right?" I nodded, and he sighed. "There just wasn't a chance to bring it up."

"You could've told me at the bar," I pointed out.

"I could have," he agreed. "But I didn't want to interrupt you brilliant tirade against my brother's team." I snorted, and he chuckled. "I'm glad you invited me over, though. I never get to watch the games because of Emmett. Not that he'll be watching a game tomorrow anyway, but still."

"Rosalie will keep him too busy in bed for football," I agreed. He choked a little on the beer he'd just opened and taken a drink of, and I giggled. "It's sacrilegious, if you ask me. Why not fuck, watch the game, and fuck again later? Priorities, people." Instead of laughing, he just choked harder, and I slapped his back.

"Fuck," he managed to croak.

"Yeah, that's what I said," I reaffirmed, a little baffled. "You fuck before the game for good luck and to ease pre-game jitters. Then you watch the game. Then afterwards, if your team lost, it's a consolation fuck to drive the pain of losing away. If your team wins, it's a celebratory fuck."

He stopped coughing and stared at me, his eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed several times, and while he was mimicking a fish, I drained the last of my second beer and opened a third.

"So what about when you're single?" He hedged finally. I shrugged.

"Easy. You masturbate." He started coughing again, and I frowned. "Shit, Edward, are you okay?"

"You… you masturbate?" he asked, between coughs. He took a drink to soothe his throat, and I frowned again.

"No. I thought we were talking hypothetically - or at least, about Rose and Emmett," I clarified. His eyes were still fixed intently on my face.

"Emmett doesn't care enough about football to forego sex for it."

"That doesn't surprise me, given the team he roots for." He laughed.

"I never miss a game if I can help it."

"Me neither. I record Monday night games when they play, and my regulars know not to discuss the game within earshot of me."

"How do you watch?" He didn't need to explain for me to understand what he meant.

"I am crazy. I stand, I jump, I scream – good thing I don't really have any neighbors – the cops would be here every weekend." He held up his beer bottle and clinked it against mine.

"I just wanted to know if I was going to offend you with any of my yelling."

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' at the end. I polished off my last beer, nearly choking on it when Edward opened a third and tried to drink it before I finished mine. "Wait – I'm pretty sure I told you that you needed to be cut off after one beer. Your tolerance is for shit!"

"Well you'll be happy to know that I brought over enough beer to last the entire game tomorrow." He laughed and drank the last little bit from his bottle. I rolled my eyes and looked at the clock – it was nearly three a.m.

"Okay, asshole. The game starts at one, and I need to have the chili simmering by eleven, so it's way past bedtime."

"Why does it need to cook so long?"

"So the flavors can meld together. I'm too tired to explain the finer points of chili-making to you, Cullen, so go get in bed."

"What?"

"You don't really think I'm going to let you drive home after you've been drinking, do you?"

"I'm fine."

"And I'm the Pope. Go the fuck to bed. I'll see you in the morning." Just for good measure, I swiped his keys off of the coffee table and took them in the bathroom with me when I went to pee. I hid them in my tampon box under the sink so he wouldn't find them lying around and try to drive home. After I finished washing my hands, I made sure all the doors were locked, shoved the pizza boxes in the fridge, and turned off all the lights.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when I got to my bedroom to find that Edward had foregone the walk upstairs, and had instead decided to crash in my bed. I sighed and climbed into bed next to him, wondering if this was going to become a habit. I didn't mind it as much as I really should have… because like it or not, I knew that I was falling for Edward.


	10. Chapter 9

Fuck that shit… that bedroom was too far away from Bella. Not to mention that it made me feel fucking weird, sleeping in a bed that I knew her father used. I had some completely unfounded fear that if I slept in the same bed he had slept in, somehow he would be able to tell that I wanted to fuck his daughter fifty different ways from Sunday… and I didn't need an angry dad coming after me before I got a chance to know her. I grabbed my jeans, wallet, cell, and shoes, and crept down the stairs to the living room. I deposited all my shit on the floor next to the couch and collapsed.

I'd woken up to the sound of Bella's panicked voice. I reached over and felt around for my cell on the floor and held it up, squinting to see the time. Fuck, it was just after four a.m. – and I had about fifteen missed text messages. I checked them all fast – all Alice, all about my being at Bella's all night. Sorry, short stuff, you don't need any of the details. I shoved the phone into the waistband of my boxers and stood, stretching. Bella had left her room, because I could hear the coffee pot in the kitchen. Was she fucking serious? She needed to go back to bed. Preferably with me. Yeah, I was gonna make that shit happen, and now.

I went into the kitchen and scared the piss out of her. Apparently she'd forgotten that I stayed over, because the look on her face – oh, it was priceless. Then she was smiling at me for whatever godforsaken reason she had, and when I suggested that _we_ go back to bed – together – her eyes got wide as saucers, but she didn't argue much. She sort of hesitated after I laid down in her bed, but whatever reason made her hesitate obviously didn't matter, since she laid down next to me. When her breathing steadied (which happened pretty fucking quickly – my girl was exhausted), I took the opportunity to move closer to her. I didn't touch her, because I was afraid she might wake up. I wasn't sure if she was a light sleeper or not, but I was gonna find that shit out right the hell now.

It's the small things, right?

I sniffed her hair. Okay, it's kind of creepy, but I have a thing with her hair. Long, silky, beautiful… yeah, I know I sound like a fucking woman. I don't care. Her hair smelled amazing – like fruit, or flowers, or – I don't know what it smelled like, but I knew I liked it, and that's all that mattered to me. It was splayed out over her pillow, spilling down onto the bed between us. I couldn't help myself – I played with the ends of it. The feeling of it sifting between my fingers was incredible.

After a few minutes of that, I decided that I'd probably better get some more sleep, too, since I'd been keeping basically the same hours as Bella had. I pulled my phone out of my boxers and put it on the nightstand, then laid on my back and drifted off.

I woke up when I felt a warm body snuggling up to mine. I opened my eyes and watched sleepily as Bella began to grind herself against me. My morning erection suddenly had a purpose, and if she didn't stop rubbing against me, the decision was going to be taken out of both of our hands. i had a moment of reprieve when my phone chimed softly, indicating a text message. I had to be careful how I moved to reach the phone, since even though it was torture to feel Bella's warm body against mine, I didn't want it to end anytime soon. I saw that Alice wanted me to keep Bella away from the café for as long as humanly possible. I fought the urge to cuss out loud at her – she knew my girl was stubborn. I dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and lifted my left arm, and almost as if on cue, Bella snuggled in closer.

My self-control was being sorely tested with every small noise she made, and every slight movement against me. Her breasts were pressed against my side, and she had managed to capture my left leg between both of hers. I was dying, but fuck if it didn't feel amazing. I knew I'd reached my limit when she pushed her face against me and inhaled deeply, though – I could feel her nose and mouth against my skin.

Of course, as soon as I'd spoken, I'd woken her up. She was very surprised (again) to see me there and had tried to get away, but I'd wrapped my arms around her to keep her there. I couldn't help but notice that she fit perfectly, almost like she'd only been made to be inside my arms.

Fuck, maybe I should check to see if I had any damn balls left, because that was the least guy-like thought I'd ever had.

Jesus, she might love it, but it was obvious to me that her long hours at the café were slowly killing her. The bags under her eyes had bags under them.

Fuck, what the hell was I even doing anymore? I knew that talk about her feelings made her run. When shit got too serious, she ran. When I got too close to her, she ran. So why had she let me touch her hair, and the too soft skin of her face?

Ah, there it is. Rolling her eyes at me puts the world right back on its axis where it belongs – wherein I am a smartass and she pretends to hate it.

And there's evidence of the pretending – even though I made a very jackassed comment about being in bed with me, and even though she smacked me (that shit _hurt_), she didn't get up. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut, instead of pointing it out?

She turned the tables on me! That's right, baby; I will _gladly_ beg you any day of the week, if it means you'll touch me.

I pulled her closer to me, and eventually she relaxed enough that her breathing started to even out. I felt like a dick, but I had to know, so I asked her about those three pictures. I was right, the douchebag in the third photo was an ex – and not just any ex, but her most recent – the one who cheated on her.

She doesn't think that anybody wants her? I know I've already asked her, but what the fuck kind of assholes has she gone out with? I'm lying next to her and I want her so fucking badly that I can barely breathe because of it, and she thinks that no one wants her? I press my face into her hair and kiss the top of her head. It'll do for now, but I've got to change that way of thinking, and soon.

At least she agrees that he was an asshole. I had to laugh when she told me that she was only keeping his picture in the frame to display the frame – and then an idea hit me. Why not put a photo of she and I in that fucking frame?

My own brilliance surprises me sometimes. My phone takes pretty good pictures, and it was handy, so I just snapped a ton with it. I actually enjoyed her protesting, because she burrowed down further against my skin, with her face pressed down against my shoulder.

Why does she sound upset? What the fuck did I do now? I was confused, and she didn't show any signs of wanting to turn around and smile with me… so I did the next best thing and tickled the hell out of her. It made me happier than I can say that she was so ticklish – I probably enjoyed the tickling way more than she did. She was moving against me; her bare legs touched mine and I had a justifiable excuse to have my hands touching her. Shit got serious when I straddled her to hold her down and tickle her, because then I was afraid she might feel how hard I'd gotten, and the easy touching would come to an end.

I don't even know how I managed to take pictures of her before I straddled her. After I moved, I dropped the phone on the bed near her head and concentrated fully on tickling her. And then, like magic, it was overwhelming. I was in way over my head… sitting in bed with her beneath me, noticing the way her eyes twinkled and her nose wrinkled up when she laughed, the feel of her heat beneath me. I was going to prove to her right the fuck now, for once and for all, just how fucking much I wanted her. I was going to kiss the hell out of her right inside her own bedroom, in her own bed, and then I was going to tell her that I was crazy about her.

And I was going to do it, too, until my cockblocking baby sister sent me another fucking text message, and killed the moment.

Of course, after I relayed her fucking message (talk about buzzkill, Alice, really), my girl got upset. I had to basically blackmail her into having breakfast with me. I looked at some of the pictures I'd just taken, totally absorbing every line and curve of Bella's face. When I heard her slam a drawer, I glanced up just long enough to see her yank her shorts down and pull on a pair of jeans. I turned my eyes back to my phone quickly so she wouldn't catch me, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek when I saw her throw a shirt on over her wife beater. Fuck me running backwards – not only had I seen her underwear (a scrap of baby blue, oh holy hell), but now I was going to know all day long that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Seriously, you girls have no fucking idea what it does to a guy to know that kind of information. I was going to be walking around with a semi hard-on all day.

And Jesus, did she _have_ to brush her hair so violently? I offered to do it for her (because I have come to the grips with the idea that I do not, in fact, have any balls left, and will therefore do anything to touch this woman), but she didn't hear me. I wasn't going to repeat the offer, just in case she would think it was creepy.

She mentioned the game tomorrow, and fuck if don't want to watch it with her and root for our team, but she hasn't offered, and I don't want to ask.

Does she think I'm a lazy asshole just because I'm not working? It kind of feels like she does.

And damn, my girl is passionate. Just for that, I may have to start buying things from small businesses… even if it means that I might never step foot into another IHOP.

Then I can't figure out these looks she keeps giving me. One minute, she looks sad, the next, she looks like she might want to devour me, and then she smiles. Hot and cold, off and on – and I can't figure it out.

I'm not quite comfortable discussing my family with her, but I do it anyway.

When she invites me over for the game and some home-cooked food, I embarrass myself with how quickly I accept. It's weird between us for a few minutes because I kind of get the impression that telling her about my family has made her feel sorry for me, but it doesn't matter enough for me to reject her invitation.

I love that she puts up a fight when I pay for her food – every other girl I've ever been out with, including Tanya, has insisted that I pay for everything we do together on outings. Most of the time it didn't really bother me, especially if it was a first date, but when the girl comes to expect it, and then worse doesn't even appreciate it… well. I have a problem with that.

After leaving her at the café, I went in search of a mom-and-pop type photo developing place. It took an hour to find one, but goddamn it, I found it – and then I dropped some serious cash in there. I bought triple prints of every single photo of the two of us – even the ones where my girl's head was turned. I kept one set, put one set in an envelope to send off to my parents (after that talk with my dad, he deserved to see them), and put one set in an envelope for Bella. Then, because I am a total fool for this girl and I want an excuse to take more pictures of her, I bought a digital camera. A very overpriced digital camera that I could've gotten at Wal Mart for probably $100 less, but still – like she said, it was the principal of the thing.

I went back to the hotel and threw some stuff into my duffel bag – my Steelers jersey, my lucky yellow socks that I wore every game day, shower stuff, my pajama pants, and a change of clothes.

Then I went and bought a couple of cases of her favorite beer – which also just happened to be my favorite brand, too. I was probably going to go to hell for it, but I used the key I'd made and let myself into her house. I told myself that it was just so I could put the beer away, but I knew better. I went upstairs, and even though I had absolutely no intentions of sleeping up there, I dropped off my bag.

I opened the envelope and stared at the photos of the two of us, and goddamn if my heart didn't flutter like crazy. I pulled my favorite photo from the bunch and put it inside her photo frame, relishing that I was replacing that asshole ex-boyfriend of hers. He'd better hope that I never ran into him, or else I was going to kill the fucker. It hadn't escaped me that the situation with him was probably playing a part in her skittishness when it came to closeness to me. But still… I didn't know if she'd want to keep the picture or not, so I shoved it down in my back pocket, not caring whether or not I wrinkled it. I'd ask her about it later.

Or not.

Stupid fucking douche-whore.

I really needed to get out of her house and stop obsessing over this asshole. It killed me to think of how he'd probably touched my girl – had he ever made her laugh? I doubted it. I didn't really want to think about it, if I could avoid it. I would have to comfort myself with the thought that it would be me making her laugh and smile from now on, not him.

I didn't know what else to do with myself to kill the time until she closed the café. After the morning's events, I was afraid to be around her for a while, because I couldn't _not_ remember how soft her skin was, or how it had felt to hold her. I already wanted to do it again.

I wandered aimlessly through the streets, pausing occasionally to look into store windows – though most of the time, my mind wasn't on whatever I was looking at. I did walk past the building that Emmett and Jasper had purchased, and I wondered if maybe I should start looking at places to stay. I fucking loathed the hotel, but at the same time, I hadn't thought I was going to be staying around here long.

Meeting Bella had changed that, and that thought was scary by itself. Of course, if things didn't work out between us and I was renting an apartment, I was only bound here as long as the lease required me to be.

I made my way back to the café after it was already dark, though Bella must have either been on break or in the bathroom, because Leah was manning the counter. I wasn't too keen on having a drink that Bella hadn't made herself, and I had a wicked craving for the milkshake she'd made – so I bought a bottled soda and went into the back room, where a live band was performing. They were decent – nothing special, but okay enough that I stayed and listened to both sets and their encore.

The café was still open for another hour, but I didn't want to stay and not see Bella, so I slipped out the back door. I walked around the block a few times, taking my time and walking slowly. Killing time was hard, especially without my iPod to listen to, or any of my books. Too late, I realized it probably would've been a good idea to check out the bookstore that Bella loved so much. When the café was closed, I went back and found that Bella had locked the doors already. Good girl. I used Alice's key and unlocked the back door.

As soon as I opened the door, I heard her music. It was another one of my favorites, though it was melancholy as all fuck. I wondered if she was in a bad mood tonight. When I went into the front room, I found her sitting behind the counter, her head in her hands. She was shaking, too. What the fuck? I was going to fuck somebody up if they'd fucked with my girl.

She didn't want to tell me what was wrong, so I lied and told her that Alice had yelled at me for letting her come back – maybe if she focused on me, she wouldn't be so upset over whatever had happened to her. I told her I was taking her out to eat (I hadn't lied when I'd said that Alice had told me that my girl hadn't eaten), and then I showed her the pictures. I was anxious to see her reaction to them. When she saw my favorite photo, she pulled it out and said she was keeping it. My breath caught in my throat when she started tracing my face with her fingertip. Jesus, this woman had no idea how much power she had over me.

When she'd said she wanted to get home, I thought it had meant that she didn't want to see me, or be seen out with me. It must've shown on my face, because she backpedaled really fucking fast. I went outside to wait, and called in the pizza to the number Alice had given me. Alice had seen the papers under the counter in the café- a bunch of take-out menus from what must have been Bella's favorite eateries. She said that there was a menu from that Italian place we'd been to on Wednesday, too. I took a chance and ordered my favorite pizza, thinking that if she hated it, I could always run out and get something else.

I watched her put my favorite photo on the fridge, and I swear to god, my heart felt like it was too big for my chest. When she demanded all of the photos, I laughed. I followed her to her bedroom because I wanted to see her. I hadn't seen her nearly all day, and I wanted to look at her face – to see her smile, to see her roll her eyes at me – anything.

She went to take a shower, and the pizza came just before she got out. I went to the fridge and pulled out a 6-pack of the beer that I'd brought earlier, and took everything to the living room. I'd only eaten about half a slice when she emerged from the bathroom, smelling amazing, and looking even better. I was going to have serious self-control issues tonight, I could already tell.

I watched as she devoured her pizza. I watched her throat as she swallowed her beer. And then I watched as she noticed that I'd changed the photo. Her eyes got big, and I sighed. I told her I still had the photo, just in case she wanted it. I was afraid that she was going to keep it.

She didn't want it.

Fuck you, Mike!

Then she told me that he still has the balls to come into her café? Her fucking livelihood, and the bastard won't leave her alone? Maybe _I'll_ keep that photo and memorize what he looks like, because the next time I see this fucker, he's a dead man.

And just like that, the anger is replaced with laughter – though on my end, it's got a good, healthy dose of jealousy thrown in for added measure. He's an asshole, and he got to be with her. He slept with her, he kissed her, he took her places.

Fuck, she called me out on my football team. Fucking Alice! Keep your goddamned mouth shut!

Whoa… being mad at my sister flew out of my head when she started talking about fucking before and after the game. I will never forget this conversation on the off chance that she and I ever begin seeing each other – I _will_ remind her of this. In the meantime, I'm going to beat off to this until it hurts.

Then she tells me to stay the night again, swipes my keys, and goes to the bathroom. Too tired to put up much of a fight (and hell, I fucking wanted to stay, anyway), I crawl into her bed and close my eyes. I hear her walking around, doing something, and then I hear her pad into the bedroom. She sighed, and then she climbed into bed next to me. I managed to stay awake until her breathing evened out, and then I moved closer and draped an arm over her before falling asleep, too.


	11. Chapter 10

I was the first one to wake up this time. I didn't want to move, because somehow during the night, he'd moved closer, and was basically spooning me. His entire front was pressed against the length of my back, and he was totally curled around me – our legs were tangled together, and his right arm was draped over me. My pulse began to race crazily as I realized that his face was pressed against the back of my neck; I could feel his breath warm against my skin, and every time he exhaled, I could feel the gooseflesh rise on the skin of my arms.

I really, _really_ had to pee… but I also really didn't want to move. I was in the process of trying to burn this moment into my memory when Edward shifted behind me, and then he sighed. He fucking _sighed_. Was he still asleep? I couldn't even tell. I felt him nuzzle into my hair some more, and then I felt his lips on my neck! It was just for a moment, and his mouth was closed, but I knew I'd felt it! And then the bed moved, and he got up and left the room.

Once he was gone, I sat up and ran shaky fingers through my hair. Why had he done that? Was he one of those people who did things before they were fully awake without realizing what they were doing? My mother was one of those people – she'd driven all the way to the grocery once before school to get me some cereal, and then got to the store and didn't remember how she'd gotten there, because she'd been half asleep. Maybe Edward was like that, too.

When he re-entered the room moments later, I noticed that his hair was sticking up just like it had yesterday, and that he looked adorably rumpled. He had a little bit of stubble on his chin, and I was possessed of the urge to nibble at it, and I wondered how it would feel against my skin if he kissed me, and oh _fuck_, I'd better go pee before my lecherous thoughts take me anywhere else. He looked mildly surprised as I ran past him and jumped into the bathroom.

When I had finished washing my hands, it occurred to me to check the time. It was ten fucking o'clock – what the fuck? I had never slept this late, not even on a Sunday morning! I ran into the bedroom to look for some clothes, feeling a little frantic as I did.

"Where's the fire?" I turned to see Edward lying on my bed, his arms crossed behind his head, and I blinked. He still looked half asleep, and he was so freaking adorable that all I wanted to do was climb back into bed and snuggle into him. Instead, I turned back to my dresser and dug through drawers for my clothes.

"Did you see how late it was?"

"Late? Bella, it's barely ten. The game doesn't start until one."

"I have to get the chili started. It won't taste right if I don't have it simmering for a few hours before we eat it."

"How long does it take to put the chili together?"

"Maybe ten minutes," I answered, frowning when I couldn't find my Steelers jersey. I moved to the closet.

"What are you looking for?"

"My jersey. I have to wear it to watch the game."

"Could it be this mysterious black and gold thing poking out from under the bed?" I swiveled, and he pointed to the floor beneath him. I dove to retrieve it, and then sighed in relief.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now that you've found what you were looking for, you can come back to bed." My stomach did a couple of flips. My mind raced, thinking of how he'd kissed me before he'd gotten up – did he remember that? I concentrated on tracing the numbers on the back of my jersey.

"So eager to get me into bed," I said, shaking my head.

"That's the idea." Something about the way he said this made me look up, and my breathing hitched. His eyes were dark, and I couldn't read his expression.

"If I go back to bed, odds are that we wouldn't have any chili to eat during the game," I hedged, wondering how he'd take my comment. Either he'd think I'd meant that I'd go back to sleep, or he'd think I'd meant that he'd be entertaining me the rest of the morning… in bed.

"We can order out," he said simply. I bit down on my lower lip. Now I wondered what _he_ meant, but I was too afraid of what his answer might be to ask him flat out. I stood there, watching him watch me for what felt like forever, before I cleared my throat and looked away.

"I'd better go get started." I walked out of the room and went back into the bathroom, where I shut the door and leaned against the sink. I hoped my shaking would stop before I went back out, because I didn't want him to know how much of an effect he'd had on me. That made two nights now, in a row, that he'd slept in the same bed as me.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Edward was a good-looking guy. No, fuck that; he was a hot motherfucker. And he'd chosen – _willingly_ – to spend two nights in my bed, with me. I wanted him more than I'd wanted any other guy I'd ever slept with, including Mike – which sucked, because I'd actually been in a committed relationship with him. The problem was, I figured, that I didn't know how Edward felt about relationships in general, other than that he was afraid of being cheated on almost as much as I was.

What would he feel about a one-night stand with someone he saw nearly every day? Maybe if I could purge myself of the sexual attraction, I'd be okay. Maybe if we just fucked and got it out of the way, we'd be good – because I wouldn't be asking him to commit to me, and I wouldn't feel like I needed to commit to him. And hell, I already knew more about him than I did about half the guys I'd slept with, right?

But then again… what if I fell harder for him after it was over? What if it was amazing, and I wanted it all the time?

Fuck these hypotheticals. I pulled off my t-shirt, put on my bra, and put my jersey on. I pulled on the same pair of black yoga pants that I always wore on game days. I went through the routine: brush my teeth, brush my hair, put on deodorant. But today, for some weird reason, I decided to leave my hair down… and I added a little bit of mascara.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I in fucking high school again?

I groaned and grabbed my pajamas. When I went back into my room, Edward was still lying on the bed.

"Everything okay?" he asked. I nodded. "Do you mind if I borrow your shower?"

"Help yourself," I said, dumping my pajamas on the foot of the bed and making my way to the kitchen. My iPod was still hooked up to the small set of speakers set up on the counter, so I turned it on, and nearly choked on my tongue. It was another Mumford & Sons song.

_Oh, lead me to the truth and I_

_Will follow you with my whole life_

Was some higher power trying to tell me something? I knew they were Edward's favorite band, and it was one of their songs that I'd been playing when we'd first met. I shook my head and took a deep breath. Coincidence, nothing more, Bella.

I set about pulling everything out that I'd need for the chili and the cornbread, and I became so absorbed in my task that I forgot about everything else. I mixed the cornbread together and put it into the oven, then browned the ground beef while I sang along to the music.

_Oh, tell me now, where was my fault_

_In loving you with my whole heart?_

Fuck. I nearly dropped the spatula when I heard him sing the words from the doorway. Chills ran down my spine – his voice was amazing, and it was kind of scary how much I liked it. I gave him a shaky smile and went back to cooking.

"Going to serenade me now, Cullen?"

"You can't play a song by my favorite band and _not_ expect me to sing along with it," he reasoned. Goddamn, he looked good. I was afraid to look at him for very long because of it. His hair was still dripping, and he was wearing a jersey just like I was – same number and everything. He had on jeans and yellow socks, which I thought was kind of funny but adorable at the same time… and he hadn't shaved. Dear god and all that's holy, _he hadn't shaved_.

I wanted to rub my face against his in the worst way.

"Bella?" My eyes snapped over to him, and he frowned at me. "Are you okay? Did you hear what I just said?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. "I must still be tired, that's all. What did you say?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm fine."

"I just asked what channel the game was on."

"Oh. I watch the game upstairs. The TV is better, and so is the sound system. If you press the 'guide' button on the remote, you'll be able to find it."

"You watch games upstairs?"

"Yeah. I like watching the game on a bigger TV. The couch is nicer, too."

"Do you need help taking anything upstairs?"

"Maybe when it's closer to game time." He nodded and stood there, watching me cook.

"Do you need any help with anything down here?"

"I think I'm good for right now." He went quiet. After I'd put everything into the chili pot and covered it, I turned and was surprised to find him still standing there. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're just watching me," I pointed out. He shrugged.

"I like watching you in the kitchen. You're relaxed."

"I like being in the kitchen," I admitted. I reached into the fridge and pulled out a soda, offering him one, which he took. I popped it open and drank half of it at once, and I heard him laugh. "What? If I don't have caffeine, I get migraines."

"True sign of an addict."

"If I don't have caffeine every four hours or so, I get the shakes really bad, too." I glanced over at the fridge and my eyes honed in on the picture of us. Suddenly I felt Edward at my back, and my heart rate skyrocketed. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck again.

"We look pretty fucking fantastic, don't we," he murmured. I gave a short, jerky nod.

"It's a good picture," I agreed.

"No, it's an amazing picture," he corrected. I rolled my eyes. "We should take one of us both today, since we're both wearing the same jerseys." I laughed.

"Seriously?"

"Well, I could just take pictures of myself, but that'd be a little bit egotistical, don't you think?"

"As if that would bother you," I shot back. I forced my face into a mask of apology and patted down my hips, where pockets would ordinarily be. "Sorry, but I don't seem to have a camera on me at the moment." I was surprised when Edward followed suit, but instead of patting his own hips, he touched mine. Then his hands snaked around and quickly squeezed my rear, and when he was finished, he gave me a devilish grin.

"Look at that, you really don't."

"Edward!" I smacked his arm, and he laughed. "You _know _these pants don't have pockets! You just groped my ass!" I could _feel_ the astonished look I was giving him.

"Baby, you can't wear those pants and expect me _not_ to." I shuddered and fought back a smile. Did he realized he'd called me baby again? I kind of loved it when he did, whether he meant to or not. I forced a frown.

"If this is going to be an issue, I can take them off."

"I really wish you would," he said, his eyes darkening. Okay, I hadn't imagined it that time, had I? That was a blatant sexual remark, wasn't it? Or was I overly hopeful? I wasn't sure how to respond. "I can even help you get rid of them, if you'd like."

Fuck me. He looked serious. And I was seriously considering _letting_ him.

…Until the timer for the cornbread went off.

I grabbed my oven mitts and pulled the muffin tin from the oven before snapping the oven off.

"Fuck, that smells incredible," he said, his voice back to normal. I sighed. "And back to our camera issue – I just so happen to have that covered." I followed him as he went out into the living room and picked up a credit-card sized digital camera. I blinked at him. He was serious – he wanted to take more pictures of the two of us together! "Come here."

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Come here," he repeated, gesturing me over. I hesitated.

"Why don't we take the picture upstairs?"

"Okay," he said, frowning a little. I turned and went upstairs, my amazement growing with every footfall. This guy wasn't even my boyfriend, and he wanted pictures with me? I'd fought with Mike on many occasions because I'd wanted to get pictures taken together professionally, and he'd said no. That should've been a sign, but I'd ignored it. The picture that had been downstairs had been taking during a family reunion, and Mike and I had been fighting beforehand. The only reason he'd allowed us to be photographed together was because my father had been the one to ask for the picture – and then I'd discovered him with another woman not even three days later. When we got to the upstairs living room, Edward stopped and looked around.

"Apparently I didn't pay much attention to this room the last time I was up here," he said, looking around and nodding in appreciation. The black leather couch had a fleece Steelers blanket draped over the back. There was Steelers paraphernalia all over the walls. "Let's sit on the couch, then."

I nodded and lowered myself onto the couch, and he sat down so close that there was no room between us. I went a little rigid, because _fuck me_, he smelled incredible. He must have brought his own soap with him, because his scent was all clean and male and just – just _him_. He turned on the camera and then put his arm around me (which surprised the fuck out of me), then pointed the camera at us.

"Relax, Bella. I won't bite – yet." I snorted, and he started snapping pictures.

"You ass," I said, smiling so hard that my face began to hurt. "You did that on purpose."

"Don't make me tickle you again," he threatened.

"What about you? Are _you_ ticklish?" He was still snapping pictures when his head whipped around so he could look at me.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, but I think I _would_." I poked his side, and he jumped. I giggled, and did it again.

"Bella, stop!"

"It's your turn to beg me, Cullen," I announced. He only had a split second to look alarmed, and then I began tickling him in earnest. He squirmed and tried to get away, but since one of his arms was still draped around my shoulders, he was left defenseless on his right side. I poked mercilessly.

"Shit, Bella, stop! Please!" I cackled and halted my assault. He gasped for breath as I laughed. My laughter died abruptly when he used the arm around me to pull me so close to him that our noses were almost touching. "If you want me to beg, all you have to do is say so."

Slowly, painfully slowly, I watched as he moved closer and closer. Was he moving so slowly to give me time to back out if I wanted to? All rational thought flew from my mind when his lips gently touched mine. My eyes fluttered shut, and I fisted the front of his jersey in my hands. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the man was barely touching his lips to mine, and I felt like I was on fire! I felt his fingers tangle in my hair, and the pressure from his lips increased. Then his mouth opened, and my bottom lip was between both of his. I wondered briefly if he could feel me trembling – because I sure as hell felt how he was. No time to think about what that meant before his lips parted and caught mine up in his again. There was absolutely no tongue involved, and by all standards of measurement, it was a fairly chaste kiss – so why the fuck did I feel like it was the most intimate kiss I'd ever had?

He continued to kiss me like this for what felt like an eternity, and just when I began to wonder if he was ever going to deepen the kiss, I felt the tip of his tongue against my lips. I opened my mouth to him immediately, and when our tongues touched for the first time, he groaned. I think I may have made a noise in response to his, because suddenly the kisses moved from gentle to ravenous. His hand moved up to cup the back of my head and hold me where he wanted me, and my hands snaked upward until my arms were around his neck and my fingers were buried in his hair. When I tugged gently, he made another noise in the back of his throat and crushed me to him.

At first, I thought the buzzing noise was just in my head – just a reaction to the most amazing fucking kiss I'd ever been a part of. After it went on for a while, I realized what it was.

Someone was ringing my doorbell.

Reluctantly, I broke away from Edward and tried to catch my breath. His eyes never left mine as I sucked in a mouthful of air.

"Doorbell," I said, pressing my palms to my cheeks. They felt like they were on fire – and if Edward kept looking at me like he wanted to devour me, they were going to keep feeling like that. "I'll be back." I went down both flights of stairs as quickly as I could while still keeping my death grip on the handrail, because my legs felt like rubber. By the time I got down to the door that led outside onto the street, I was ready to tell whoever it was to go fuck themselves for ruining my moment with Edward.

I swung the door open.

"Bella! Oh, god, I was worried! I mean, I knew you were home, but-" Alice stopped talking and peered at me. "What have you been –? Your face is so red!" she said this last part in a whisper, glancing up the stairs.

"Alice, I had to run down two flights of stairs to answer the door," I said, rolling my eyes. I hoped that served as an explanation as to what I'd been doing, so she wouldn't probe deeper.

"Can I come in?" she asked, still eyeballing me. I sighed and stepped aside.

"Sure. I was just making a pot of chili to eat during the game. Do you want to stay for some?"

"Football?" She asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste. I laughed, and she followed me up the stairs. When we got to the living room, I wasn't surprised to see her brother lounging on the couch. He looked completely unfazed… except for the epic smirk that graced what I knew now were crazy soft lips. Alice's suspicions were immediately raised, and her eyes darted between the two of us.

"Hey, baby sister. Come to watch the game with us?" The deflection worked. She screwed up her face, and I laughed.

"Ew, no! If I _have_ to watch football, it'll be with Jazz, thank you very much. I just stopped by to ask you something." She glanced at me, and taking the hint, I backed away.

"I'm just going to go check on the chili." I retreated to the kitchen and popped the cornbread muffins out of the pan. After arranging them on a plate, I stirred the chili. It had simmered down a little, so I added a bit of water and stirred it again. I stared at the photo of Edward and I for a minute, and then opened the fridge to pull a beer out.

"I'd like one too, if you don't mind." I jumped, startled, and almost dropped the bottle I was holding. I retrieved another one and handed it to him, watching as he opened it, took a long drink, and swallowed. Suddenly my throat felt dry, too. "Alice's meddling has reached new heights, it seems."

"Why do you say that?"

"When she couldn't get me to answer any calls or texts, she decided to come over and see me personally."

"Is everything okay?"

I swallowed once as he slowly walked over to me, and then I was pinned between him and the fridge. He lowered his head so that his lips barely brushed the shell of my outer ear, and gooseflesh erupted all over my body. "I think everything is just fine, don't you?"

My tongue darted out to moisten my dry lips, and I cleared my throat. "Better than fine." He pulled away slightly and studied my face, as though he was looking for something. Then he touched his forehead to mine and closed his eyes.

"You always surprise me," he whispered, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Definitely good." He leaned forward a little bit, and lightly touched his lips to mine. When he pulled away, I opened my eyes and took a deep breath – goddamn it, I was going to get what I wanted, and it was now or never.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Can you hold still for a second?" He looked confused, but he nodded.

"Sure." I reached up with both hands and touched my fingers to the stubble on his jaw. His mouth opened a little bit, and he watched me through hooded eyes. I traced his jawline over and over – first with my fingertips, then with the palm of my hand. After I'd had my fill of basically rubbing his face, I leaned over and gently rubbed my cheek to his. I heard him suck in a breath before his arms went around me and pulled me flush against him. Then my arms went around his neck, and he buried his face in the spot between my chin and my shoulder.

We stood there hugging like that for a long time.

It was long enough that when I finally thought to glance at the clock on the microwave, I was shocked by the time.

"Edward, it's almost one!" Slowly he lifted his head and turned to look behind himself at the clock, but he didn't seem in any hurry to release me – not that I minded.

How long had we been kissing upstairs? A lot longer than I'd thought, apparently.

"Damn, we missed the pre-game show," he said, sounding anything but upset. I snorted and broke loose from his arms to pull two bowls out of the cabinet. I handed him one, and started scooping some chili into my bowl. He frowned at me. "There are noodles in this chili."

"Yeah," I said, glancing at him. "I always put noodles in my chili. Haven't you ever had it like that before?"

"No."

"Trust me. Have I let you down yet when it comes to food?"

"No," he said hesitantly, looking from the bowl to me.

"Okay then." He filled his bowl, and I grabbed the plate of cornbread muffins to take upstairs. "Can you grab the beers?"

"On it." I went ahead and went upstairs without waiting for him, and I put everything down on the coffee table and flipped the TV on. I found the channel and clicked on it, and then black and gold jerseys filled up the screen.

"Fuck you, you ignorant assholes!" I swore, when I saw that the five commentators had made their picks – all but one _against_ my team. Edward reached the top of the steps and laughed.

"This is going to be an interesting game, I can already tell." He deposited the beer and his bowl on the coffee table, and shot me an amused look, which I returned.

"Don't say you weren't warned."

"I would never." I snorted at him, and sat down to eat. I'd barely gotten a bite in before kickoff, and when the Steelers ran it all the way back for a touchdown, I stood and screamed. Edward was in the air just a split second after me.

"Fuck yeah!" he turned to me, and I thought he was going to give me a high five, but instead he grabbed my cheeks and planted a hard, quick kiss on my lips. I felt lightheaded. Was he going to do this every time they scored?

I hoped it was a blowout. I hoped the Steelers ran the fucking score up as much as humanly possible.

I flopped back down on the couch and took a long swig of beer. I made Edward choke on his own drink when I screamed about a helmet-to-helmet hit that the refs didn't call. This was why my dad didn't like to watch football with me – while he appreciated my dedication to my team (which was the wrong team, in his opinion), he did not appreciate my foul mouthedness during the games.

"You blind motherfuckers, pull your heads out of your asses and watch what's going on on the fucking field!" I seethed at the TV. Beside me, I heard Edward chuckle. I couldn't even eat my food, because I was so worked up over the game.

I screamed when we intercepted the ball, and then cussed when we went three and out. I was on my feet, stomping and screaming when we sacked the Cardinals' QB for the second time in a row.

"Bitch went down!" I yelled. This time, Edward laughed out loud – so hard, he cried. Which I pointed and laughed at him for, and nearly pissed my pants. Instead, I waited until there was a commercial and then ran to the third floor bathroom that I rarely used. When I emerged, I realized two things: one, that we had drunk a lot of beer, and it wasn't even halftime yet, and two – Edward fit perfectly in this room with me. He just _belonged_.

I'd like to think he belonged with me, too. I felt a stupid smile spread across my face. And of course, Edward chose that moment to turn and look at me. An answering smile spread across his face, and I went back to the couch and sat down beside him.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. I giggled. I fucking _giggled_. Fucking beer.

"You." Both of his eyebrows shot up.

"What about me?"

"You look good on my couch." His grin widened, and the game came back on before I could embarrass myself any further. I had completely forsaken my chili for the beer, which seemed plentiful, since Edward had run down to the kitchen twice to replenish it. I really needed a mini-fridge up here.

Halftime came, and we were up 16-3. I was a little pissed because it really should've been 23-3, but I'd take it. I sank back into the couch, feeling keyed up from the emotion of the game, and feeling drowsy from the beer at the same time. Edward moved closer to me and raised his arm, motioning for me to cuddle into him – which I did without hesitation.

"So, I look good on your couch, huh?" I rolled my eyes as he chuckled. I kind of loved laying against him like this, because I could _feel_ his laughter – and he still smelled amazing; the soap, and him, and now the smell of beer intermingled.

"You really do. I think it's the jersey that does it for me," I said matter-of-factly, tugging on the sleeve a little bit.

"Like a guy in black and gold, do you?"

"Yep. You go with the room really well." He laughed again.

"Well, it's only fair that you should know that I love a girl in black and gold, too." My heart leapt, and I snorted.

"I'll remember that. Are your yellow socks an every game thing?" I wondered aloud. His legs were crossed, and his right ankle rested on his left knee. I touched the instep of his foot, and he jumped a little.

"Yes, they are. Are your hot pants an every game thing?"

"Hot pants?" I echoed.

"These," he said, rubbing just above my knee. I ignored the heat that spread through my leg at his touch.

"They're not hot pants, they're yoga pants," I corrected him. "And yes, they're an every game thing. I can't watch a game without them or my jersey." Or my lucky yellow bra and matching yellow underwear, but he didn't need to know about those… even though he'd probably already caught glimpses of my bra through the jersey.

"They're hot pants because they make your ass look hot." He laughed as I gave him a half-hearted smack.

"Wait-" I pulled away a little bit so I could look him in the eye. "Do you mean my ass _only_ looks hot in these pants?" I was teasing, hoping to throw him off-kilter, but he shook his head.

"No, your ass looks fabulous in jeans, too. These pants just show it off better." I felt my mouth drop open a little bit, and he grinned, his green eyes sparkling. "What, you didn't think I'd tell you the truth?"

"You've been looking at my ass?" I asked, my voice a little quieter. He nodded.

"Since the moment I scared the shit out of you Wednesday night. Often. And when I say often, I mean every time you walk past me. Why the hell do you think I always walk up the stairs _after_ you?"

I gave a breathy laugh, but I was kind of amazed and overwhelmed at the same time. I don't think anyone had ever blatantly admitted to looking at me like he just had. At least, not _to_ me, anyway. Something about his unapologetic grin resonated in me, and before I could convince myself not to, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. As soon as my lips touched his, it was as though I was being consumed in flames. He shifted in his seat so he could reach me better, and then my whole body was hyper aware of him – from his right hand on my back, to his left hand on my right leg, just above the knee – and then our tongues touched, and the feeling intensified.

It felt as though he was kissing every coherent thought from my head. As long as his hands were on me and his tongue danced with mine, I didn't even know my own damn name. This man was dangerous. His lips should have been classified as lethal weapons.

He was the first to pull away this time. I was confused until he pointed to the TV – the third quarter was starting.

"I know you wouldn't want to miss the second half," he said, sounding as though he was apologizing.

"Don't go anywhere," I ordered him. He grinned.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I didn't move. When I turned back to the game, I stayed right where I was sitting – which was almost in his lap. He didn't seem to mind, though, and his arm dropped behind me, with his hand resting on my hip. Every now and then, he would stroke me with his thumb. It was kind of distracting, because I was trying to watch the game _and_ pay attention to him, and every time he moved that thumb, my concentration on the game was shot.

"Fuck you up your stupid asses, you motherfuckers!" I screamed, jumping up. "That was roughing the passer! Did you _see_ that shit?" I asked, turning to him. He smiled and held up his hands in a helpless gesture.

"I saw it. I hate watching games sometimes, because it always feels like the refs are working against us."

"Fuckers," I agreed, turning back to the game. My temper flared and my adrenaline was up – I needed an outlet for this energy. I wondered if Edward would be very upset if I tried to make out with him during every commercial break… I didn't have a chance to ask, though, because on the next drive, we scored another touchdown.

"Hell yeah!" Edward yelled, clapping. They showed the extra point kick, which we nailed, and then went to commercial. "It's about fucking time we scored again," he muttered. "There's only five minutes left in the quarter – we should've been way ahead by now."

I seriously wanted to fuck his brains out.

I would settle right now for some more making out, though.

"Come here," he said, patting his leg. I gave him a questioning look. Did he really want me to sit on his lap? "Sit with me."

"Sit _with_ you, or sit _on_ you?" Oh, fuck. That sounded way dirtier than it should have. One look at his face told me that he thought so, too.

"Whichever you prefer." I hesitated for a minute, and then thought, to hell with it. I went over and sat down on the couch to his left, and swung my legs over his lap. We were silent through the rest of the commercial break. Rather than it being awkward, it was really comfortable. It was nice not feeling pressured to talk.

Apparently I was really naïve about how relationships were supposed to work, because this was too easy. Being with him was as easy as breathing, once I let go and stopped sweating every damn thing he said or did – and nothing with Mike had ever felt the way it felt with Edward.

With Mike, I'd had to push and prod to even get him to talk to me – and he would never have watched a football game with me, ever. He was a Bengals fan, which should've warned me to his character in the first place, but I'd let it slide. Even though he'd cheated on me the entire time we'd dated, I'd always relished what I'd thought was an easy camaraderie between the two of us.

Now, looking at my time with Edward, I regretted wasting even a single day on Mike.

Edward pulled me back to the present when he rested his open palms on my legs, just above my knees. When I looked up, his eyes were focused on the TV. I smiled to myself.

"Sack that piece of shit!" He cried. "He was open for days – why didn't we sack that asshole?" I giggled, and he turned to me, bemused. "What?"

"Is this what I sound like?" I wondered. He smiled.

"Baby, you're way worse than I am," he said. My heart skipped a beat. There was that 'baby' again.

"I doubt that. We do make quite a pair, though."

"We _need_ to watch a game with Emmett. When do we play Seattle?"

"Next week at 4."

"We should have him over. I would _love_ to see his reaction to the two of us watching the game."

"That would be fun," I agreed, wondering if he realized that he'd made it sound as though we were living together. My stomach flip-flopped at the thought. It wasn't as repellent as I'd thought it might be. "I'll leave it up to you to invite him."

"Should we invite the realtor?"

"Rose?" I laughed. He frowned.

"What? Does she not like football?"

"Oh, she does. But she's not a Steelers fan, or a Seahawks fan."

"Who does she like?"

"She roots for New England." His face screwed up.

"She's a _Pats_ fan?" he sounded as disgusted as I'd been when I'd first found out.

"No, she's a Tom Brady fan," I corrected. He made a noise of disapproval.

"Emmett can't know that yet. He never would've slept with her if he had."

"I thought you said that he wasn't a serious football fan?"

"No, I inferred that he wouldn't pass up sex to watch a game," he said, shaking his head. I laughed.

"Nice."

"Everyone has their priorities," he said, shrugging. "I'm just glad not to be forced to listen to it for the last two nights."

"What?" I gasped, my mouth dropping open. "They're fucking in the hotel room?"

"Yeah – and unfortunately, I share a room with Emmett, and he doesn't care who's in there when the mood strikes them. Apparently your realtor friend doesn't mind, either."

"Oh, God," I said, dropping my head back. "Rose has her own place – I've seen it. It's a beautiful loft apartment in a building that she owns. Why wouldn't she take him back to her place?"

"I find it's better not to ask Emmett questions about that kind of shit – it opens the door to all kinds of uncomfortable conversation topics, and I don't really need to know what surfaces they've fucked on, thank you very much." I laughed because he looked so pained. Then a thought occurred to me. I was hesitant to bring it up, but I took a deep breath and did it anyway. I focused my eyes on the TV, so I wouldn't see his reaction if it was a bad one.

"I have two spare bedrooms. You're welcome to stay here anytime you'd like."

He was quiet for so long, I thought maybe he hadn't heard me. Or maybe he was just trying to think of a nice way to say no. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I became hyper focused on the game.

"Oh – oh!" I jumped up and pointed at the TV screen. "Fucking call that! Fucking _call that!_ Bullshit! That's a late hit, you assholes!" Edward was on his feet, too.

"Blind motherfuckers!" It looked like our QB was injured, and my breath stuck in my throat. The game went to commercial while they looked at him, and I began to pace.

"Fuck!" Our backup QB was decent enough, but there was a reason that he was second string. There were only four minutes left in the game, and we were ahead 23-10, but that didn't give me any comfort. With the two point conversion, it was entirely possible that the Cardinals could catch up. Four fucking minutes was a long time, and anything could happen.

"Can I start tonight?" I stopped pacing and my heart felt like it had stopped, too. I turned and blinked at him.

"Start what?"

"Staying here." I swallowed thickly.

"Of course. There's two bedrooms up here – you can have either one you want." I thought back to last night, when he'd slept in my bed, and I wondered if it was going to be a habit.

"You have no idea how glad I'll be to get away from that fucking hotel," he breathed, his eyes trained on the TV as they went back to the game. Our QB wasn't hurt, after all – but the backup would be finishing the game, just in case.

"Fuck, this makes me nervous," I admitted, frowning and biting at my thumbnail as I watched him jog out onto the field.

"Yeah." We watched them run the ball, three and out, and then the Cards got the ball back. I was a nervous wreck when they got a first down, and then another, but our D-line held them back, and our backup took a knee after the two minute warning.

We'd won.

I turned and threw my arms around Edward's neck, relieved. His arms went around me, and we stood there for a few minutes like that. When his phone chimed, I let go of him and began gathering our dishes. I went down to the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. After I started the dishwasher, I went into my bedroom and removed my jersey, making sure to put it on a hanger and hang it in the closet this time, so I'd know where it was next week. I grabbed an old t-shirt and put it on. When I turned, Edward was standing in the doorway. I wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to run back to the hotel and grab my shit," he explained. I nodded.

"Okay. You do know that you don't have to check in and out with me, right?" I asked, smiling.

"I just wanted to let you know, in case you went looking for me and I wasn't here."

"Thanks. Go, retrieve your shit from the den of sin." He chuckled.

"I'll be back soon."

"Bye." And then he was gone. I took the opportunity to gather up all of my dirty clothes, and I lugged it all into the hallway, where my washer/dryer were hidden in a closet-like enclosure. After starting a load, I went back upstairs and collected all of the beer bottles and took them downstairs and out into the back alley to the dumpster.

By the time I got back upstairs, I decided that I wanted some sugar. I switched my iPod on, pressed shuffle, and began mixing a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I was bouncing along to every upbeat song that played, shaking my hips back and forth, and singing (badly). I had just put the second tray of cookies in to bake when I turned and saw him at the top of the steps. I clutched a shaking hand to my chest, and he laughed.

"Miss me that much?"

"You scared me!"

"Something smells good," he said, dropping two huge duffel bags by the end of the couch.

"I wanted something sweet, so I baked some cookies. There's some still warm in here on the cooling rack." He ran past me, and I laughed when he grabbed three cookies at once. I was more than gratified when he sank his teeth into one and moaned.

"These are fucking fantastic."

"Thanks," I said, pleased but embarrassed, too. If they got that much of a reaction out of him, I might bake him a fresh batch every day. "It's the same recipe I use downstairs."

"Everything you make is incredible. The chili was amazing – even with the noodles in it." I snorted at him, and he shoved another cookie into his mouth. "I'm going to gain so much weight hanging around you."

"I don't really cook that much, except on Sundays, and not even then sometimes. Last Sunday, I just ordered a shitload of Chinese food and stayed on the couch all day, reading." He gave me a funny look.

"Don't you ever go out?"

"I don't really have time. I spend all my time at the café." And I'd liked it that way, until he'd come along, too.

"You never go to the movies or anything?"

"I don't have time," I repeated, my voice belying my frustration at the continued line of questioning. "And when I do have time on Sunday, all I feel like doing is resting."

"Okay, you seriously need to hire some more people. Alice wants to be your opener – she's already told you that."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" I asked, going into the hallway to move clothes from the washer to the dryer. Edward held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"So are you opposed to hanging out with me the rest of the day, or what?" he asked finally. I turned the dryer on and turned to look at him. "You _are_ stuck with me now – you know that, right?" I tried to ignore the way my heart pounded.

"I don't mind hanging out with you, but I have to warn you that I go to bed early on Sunday nights. It's the only night I get a chance to."

"How early is early?"

"Nine."

"That's really fucking early, considering your bedtime on other nights."

"I told you it was." I took a breath and decided to broach the subject with him. "So… this sleeping in my bed with me thing…" he didn't look away from me.

"Yeah?"

"Is it going to be an every night thing, or…?"

"Do you _want_ it to be an every night thing, Bella?" he asked, his voice low. It washed over me and I shivered.

"Do _you_ wanted it to be an every night thing, Edward?" I shot back, since I wasn't sure how to answer.

"Fuck, yes." I was surprised. I hadn't expected him to outright admit it. Although nothing Edward did should surprise me, because so far, he had proven himself to be nothing if not forthcoming with how he really felt and what he really thought. I blinked back my surprise.

"Oh. Well… if that's the case, then you can probably just move your stuff into my room, instead of upstairs… if you want to, I mean. I'm not trying to-" he didn't wait for me to finish. He grabbed both of his duffel bags and took them straight into my room. "Okay then," I muttered to myself. Was I really going to let him sleep in bed with me every night?

Yes.

It was kind of scary, but exciting, too. And I'd been alone for so long, it was nice to have some company.

But that didn't mean that it didn't scare me half to death. After all, I'd just met this guy, and I was already playing house with him?

And then another thought presented itself: was I going to try and progress past the kissing that we'd done today? Were we even going to do that again? And holy fuck, what did the kissing mean for tonight's sleeping arrangement? I could feel the sweat start to bead on my brow – I really needed to fucking relax.

Where the hell was that beer, again?

I would become an alcoholic at this rate.

"So," he said, emerging from the bedroom. "Want to watch one of the 4 o'clock games?"

"Sure," I managed to squeak out. I turned and went upstairs, the comment about him walking up behind me still in my mind, and flipped the TV back on. "Which one do you want to watch?" I pressed the guide button, and the game listing popped up.

"Want to watch the Redskins and the Dolphins?" he asked, scanning through the lineup. I cringed.

"Yeah, like I want to take a spork to the eye," I said. He laughed. "What about the Chiefs and the Broncos?"

"That works." I flipped it on, and he sat down. Without waiting to see if he'd invite me to do it, I sat down the way we'd been earlier – with my legs over his lap. He gave me a smile that almost seemed shy, and rested his left hand just above my knee. His right hand was flitting around – sometimes he rubbed my shin with it, a few times he gently squeezed my knee with it, and once or twice he even rubbed my bare foot with it. I wasn't sure that he was entirely aware of what he was doing.

"So, the lesser of two evils," I said, clearing my throat. He looked at me, then back at the TV.

"Broncos," he said. "We don't play them in the regular season this year, so I don't mind rooting for them." I loved that he'd understood what I'd meant, and I hadn't had to be specific when I'd asked for him to know what I'd meant. I felt the goofy smile spread across my face before I could stop it, and I bit my bottom lip. He chose that moment to turn and look at me, and suddenly he was smiling, too.

"What?"

"Nothing." I shook my head and turned my eyes back to the TV. "I just agree with you, is all."

"Well, that's good to know." The game went to a commercial. "So this is a typical Bella Sunday, just relaxing in front of the TV? I could get used to this."

"How do you normally spend your Sundays?"

"In Washington, Em and Jas usually put me to work. I had to help them sort through mounds of paperwork – all the fucking time. Not just on Sundays, but any other time that Em and I were home at the same time."

"They do realize that you're not a lawyer, don't they?"

"Sometimes I think they don't. The first few times they did it, I thought it was a way for them to pay me back for not becoming a doctor, or a lawyer like them. But can you really see me as a doctor, responsible for people's lives?"

"I'm not sure I know you well enough to make that call," I hedged. I absolutely _could_ see him as a doctor – the hunky doc that no woman ever missed an appointment with. But as far as what I'd seen from his laid-back personality, he was better suited to the musician thing.

He gave me a look that told me he didn't buy my answer for a second.

"You know me well enough." Our eyes locked for a minute. "I hope you want to know me better."

"I already know the important stuff," I said, trying to tease him. "I know that you like Hawaiian pizzas, the Steelers, coffee, and Leonard Cohen. What else is there to know?" He laughed, and I silently admired (for the millionth time, it seemed) his dimples and the crinkling of his eyes as he did. When he stopped laughing, he rubbed my leg gently.

"People have gotten married knowing less," he observed, his eyes fixed on me as he spoke.

"People have also fucked knowing less," I replied, thinking of Rose and Emmett. When his mouth opened a bit and his eyes darkened, I realized what I'd said, and how it could be taken. "Like Rose and your brother did."

…was it just me, or did he look a little disappointed? Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.

"Yeah. I've done that, too."

"You have?"

"I've had my fair share of one night stands. Haven't you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately?"

"I regret most of them."

"Most?"

"Well," I said, squirming a little bit with my discomfort. "The ones I regret, I had been drinking beforehand, and I didn't really remember what happened. I woke up in a strange place and I was in bed with some strange guy, and I couldn't even remember his name. I didn't know if I'd even _known_ his name before I'd –" I stopped and cleared my throat. Edward moved and before I realized what he was doing, he'd pulled me to him. His arms were around me and my head was on his shoulder.

"I regret some of mine, too," he offered, squeezing me against him. "Why don't we talk about something more pleasant?"

"Like what?"

"Like how you love me so much, you're going to make me one of those coffee milkshakes every day." He looked so eager, I had to snort.

"I love those. I consider that a comfort food."

"So, every day, then?"

"What, are you just going to come into the café every day and get one?"

"No, no – we've established a comfortable routine. I come in after you've closed, check out whatever song you've got on, and scare the piss out of you, at which point, you make me a drink."

"Nice." I laughed. "I could do without the scaring the piss out of me part."

"Okay, slight modification to our comfortable routine – you just go ahead and assume that I'm going to come in after you've closed, thus preventing preliminary pissing of the pants. All other elements of the routine stay the same." I laughed again, because his dimpled grins were infectious.

"Right."

"So if you were closing tonight," he said, still smiling, "what song would you be playing?"

"Seriously?"

"Deathly."

"Okay, give me a second to think about it." I tried to think about the mood I was in, and the kind of day I'd had. The memory of my first kisses from Edward was a fantastic one, and should have the proper soundtrack. Lines popped into my head – _I don't want this to end/Can you tell from my face/I want you to do it again_ – and I could feel my face warm. He was watching me, too, because as soon as I felt my face burn, he perked up a little.

"What is it?"

"I haven't thought of one," I lied.

"Bella," he said, his voice pleading. "Please? It's just a song. I really want to know – I wanna know if we've still got this musical thing going on." I tilted my head at him.

"Musical thing?" It was his turn to look a little embarrassed.

"We have some kind of musical connection," he said, even though his face reddened a little as he spoke. "Everything you've played so far has been something I like. I just want to know if this one is, too."

"What if I told you it was something by the Jonas brothers?" I challenged. He chuckled.

"Come on, Bella."

Damn. He'd been honest, even though he'd clearly been embarrassed. It was time to fess up.

"Mystified – Rocco de Luca and the Burden."

"I haven't heard that one," he admitted. He glanced around. "Do you have the CD?"

"Oh, _hell_ no," I said, jumping up. He thought he was going to listen to it with me in the room?

"What? It'd be just like me walking in on you in the café."

"Uh," I stalled. "Laundry! I have to go put another load of clothes in," I said hurriedly. My eyes darted to the stairs, but before I could move, he reached out and grabbed me. Off balance, I fell straight on to his lap.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been before. "The laundry will still be there later."

"Yeah, that's kind of my problem," I said, frowning and trying to ignore the warmth emanating from him. "Laundry tends to stay dirty if you don't do it. I only have time to get it finished today."

"Can you do the laundry while sitting on my lap?"

"You know I can't."

"Then fuck the laundry."

"I don't even want to consider the logistics of such an act," I huffed, folding my arms over my chest and pretending to pout. He chuckled.

"So this song… is it on your iPod downstairs? Because if you really want to go do laundry, I could-"

"Wow, look at those Broncos go," I said, glancing at the TV. They were up by ten. Edward laughed, and I could feel it vibrate through us both.

"Bella, you know that I don't ever mean to make you uncomfortable, right? You can tell me if I ever am. In a bad way, I mean." I turned and met his eyes, which held nothing but sincerity. I nodded.

"Okay."

"So why won't you let me listen to the song?"

"If you really want to listen to it, you can. You're right, it's on my iPod."

"I figured. Sooo… the game isn't really all that interesting to me," he admitted. I laughed.

"I didn't think so. Normally I do like to keep up with the rest of the games, but I'm too tired to watch much right now."

"Well, why don't we do this, then: let's take a nap, and then go out to dinner – my treat?" I glanced over at the clock.

"It's nearly six thirty – too late for a nap if I'm just going to bed around nine. I don't really want to go out if I don't have to, either. It just feels like it makes my day so much shorter."

"How about I call for take-out, and I'll get it and bring it back here?"

"That sounds okay," I said, nodding. Neither of us moved. "So, are you going to call somewhere, or-?"

"I'm actually pretty comfortable right now. You?"

"I suppose."

"What song would you play?" I asked after a moment. He looked surprised.

"Come again?"

"Usually the song I play in the evening is what I would put on a soundtrack for my day. What song would you play?"

"That's easy. I Believe, by Stevie Wonder." My heart flew into my throat, and I couldn't help but stare. It was one of my very favorite songs of all time. I knew the lyrics by heart. "Do you know it?"

"It's one of my very fucking favorite songs," I breathed, nodding. His grin could have split his face in two, it was so big. But had he meant that he felt that way about me? "Of all time, ever."

"You have a thing for Stevie?"

"Absolutely. Talking Book was a fucking fantastic album. It's one of my all-time favorites." Actually, I had a thing for _him._

"Mine, too."

"Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"I have no idea what I'm doing." He studied me for several long moments, and I wondered if he knew what I meant. I had no idea what he was doing here, or what I was doing with him, and I had no idea what was going to happen because of it. I was more than just a little elated, and just scared enough to make me feel almost sick to my stomach.

"Just relax and go with it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then his lips were on mine.

Slow, sensuous, drugging kisses – the man had kissing down to an art. No fucking lie, his kisses made me glad I was sitting down, because I was lightheaded enough that I might have fallen otherwise. He started off with closed-mouth kisses, pressing his lips to mine over and over. After a few tortuous moments of this, he moved to open-mouthed kisses, but no tongue. These were most definitely my favorite; he caught my bottom lip between his and gently sucked at it. I reached up and touched my fingertips to his jawline and felt the stubble there, and as soon as I did, his tongue touched mine.

I'm not sure how long we stayed on the couch that way, just kissing. He never tried to press his advantage and touch me more, which was disappointing and a relief at the same time. I hadn't had sex in two years, and I was sure that Edward was probably getting laid on a regular basis – I would probably be shitty in bed, with my lack of practice. I was having performance anxiety, and I wasn't even sure when (or even if) I was ever going to perform!

When he finally pulled away from me, it was because my stomach had growled. I was a little mortified.

"Let me call in this order. Don't move." I frowned and watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the numbers. "Chinese," he mouthed.

"General Tso's chicken," I whispered. He nodded. When he ordered, I noticed that he ordered exactly as I would have – the entrée, steamed rice, and extra egg rolls. I told him my address when he asked, and listened as he repeated it back to the guy on the phone.

"It should be here within the next thirty minutes," he said, pushing the _end_ button on his phone, and sliding it back into his pocket.

"Maybe we should go back downstairs to wait for it," I suggested. He frowned a little.

"I was hoping we could just pick up where we left off." I snorted and stood up, offering him my hand to help pull him up, too.

"It's not like I'm never going to see you again." I started towards the stairs, and he followed.

"Yeah, I guess," he scoffed, sounding for all the world like a pouty child. I bit back a laugh.

"You can listen to that song, if you want," I offered. "I really do need to get another load of laundry started." I left him in the kitchen and went into the hallway to pull the dry clothes out. I heard the song playing as I folded, and I kind of wished I could see his face as he listened. I wondered if he'd pick up on why I'd blushed and hadn't wanted to tell him about it. When the song ended, he appeared in the hallway.

He watched me fold for a few minutes, and then when I was finished and had shut the door, he caught my eye.

"You don't have to wait for me to do it, if the mood strikes you," he said. I blinked, and the blood rushed to my face. "I'm not trying to embarrass you, I'm just telling you that you don't have to wait for me."

"Good to know." I moved past him and took my laundry into the bedroom and put it away. At that point, the doorbell rang. He went to go get the food, and when he brought it back, we sat down on the couch to eat.

We chit-chatted through dinner, not really talking a lot, but it was still comfortable and devoid of awkwardness. It was really nice, and something that I could get used to very easily. He even cleaned everything up when we were finished. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and was momentarily thrown off when I saw his toothbrush sitting next to mine. Ignoring the funny feeling that invaded my stomach, I brushed my teeth and changed into a tank top and flannel shorts. When I re-entered the bedroom, the alarm clock on my nightstand read 8:29. Edward had changed into a pair of sweatpants and was lying on the bed.

Without a shirt.

On his side.

Fucking hell, he had a _side_ – of _my_ bed.

I crawled into bed and turned off the lamp, and then we were bathed in darkness. It only took a second before Edward had reached for me. I went willingly into his arms, and laid my head on his bare shoulder. My heart was thumping crazily – it somehow felt as though we were toeing some invisible line.

I didn't know what to expect.

Edward stroked the bare skin of my arm with his fingertips. Back and forth, back and forth, over and over. Once I realized that he wasn't going to try anything else, I relaxed, and sleep took me.


	12. Chapter 11

Waking up to Bella was the best fucking thing on the entire planet. Seriously, I woke up with her warm body pressed against mine, and the scent of her all around me. I could think of nothing better. Okay, well – I _could_ think of one thing better, but you know what I mean.

I couldn't resist kissing the exposed skin at the back of her neck. I didn't even try. I kissed the back of her neck and then went to the bathroom. When I got back to the bedroom, I was surprised to find that she was awake. Then she ran past me for her own bathroom time.

I got back in bed and made myself comfortable, thinking that when she came back from the bathroom, I'd be able to entice her into some – for lack of a better word – cuddle time. She wasn't having it, though, and decided that she wanted to get dressed instead. It was amusing to watch her frantically search her room for her jersey. She seemed grateful enough when I pointed it out to her, and then I'd told her to come back to bed.

I hadn't missed the way she'd hesitated, how her face had flushed, or how she'd bitten her lip – or how tempted she'd looked. After some not-so-subtle suggestiveness from me, she'd bolted. Fuck. Did she think I was teasing her? I wasn't joking in the least. I would really rather skip the game, if it meant being in bed with her all day – whether we were sleeping or otherwise occupied.

When she re-entered the bedroom, I fought not to comment on her clothes. Her ass looked fan-fucking-tastic in those tight pants, and I could see every curve of it. I could also see through the tiny holes of the jersey that she was wearing something yellow underneath. Good to see that I wasn't the only superstitious fan around here. She still looked skittish though, so I asked if I could use her shower.

After the quickest fucking shower known to humankind, I followed the sound of Mumford & Sons to the kitchen. I watched her silently for a few minutes, admiring the fluidity of her movements around the kitchen. Then when I was ready to announce my presence, I sang to my two favorite lines of the song.

Pay attention, baby. These words are meant for you, because you already have my heart, whether you realize it or not.

Why won't she look at me? It looks like she's zoned out and gone somewhere else completely, because when I speak, she doesn't even blink. I have to ask her again before her head jerks around. I stand there and watch her, just because I like to watch her move. I don't even taste the soda she hands me, because I'm so distracted by her.

Then she's staring at the picture of us, and I can't pass up a chance to get close to her. I lean forward and barely brush the outer shell of her ear with my bottom lip as I speak. I don't miss the shudder that passes through her.

She needs to realize that we are a perfect fit. The photo speaks a thousand words. We look fucking spectacular together. Why not drive the point home and get some pictures of us together in our Steelers jerseys?

She seems surprised and a little reluctant at my suggestion, but I persist. When she pretends to search for a camera, I see my opening, and I pat her down, too. I take the chance and grab her ass, pretending to check her nonexistent back pockets.

Then she suggests taking her pants off. And because I would really, _really_ love that, I tell her the truth – I wish she would. She gives me a highly surprised look, and so I offer to help her get rid of them, to prove my sincerity. Fuck, she looks like she's actually considering it – fuck me, please. Yes and thank you.

And then the stupid fucking timer goes off, and ruins the moment. Cockblockers aren't just limited to being my sister; apparently appliances can do it, too. Who knew?

I don't let the timer deflect me, though, and pester her again to take pictures. She looks hesitant, but she finally agrees and suggests going upstairs. I follow her up the stairs and unabashedly watch her ass the entire time – how can I not? It's right in front of my face, and it's being hugged so nicely by the pants she's wearing. She should consider herself lucky that I don't just lean forward and bite it like I really want to.

I must not have really looked at this room when I was up here yesterday – I didn't notice all of the Steelers paraphernalia. Not sure how I missed it, because the room was covered in it. I approve. I'm sure that if Emmett ever sees this room, he will tell her that I fought with him to try and cover the living room of our apartment in black and gold. Unfortunately, he didn't go for it – but I managed to hold him off of his weird teal color, too, so I considered that a win. This was definitely a girl after my own heart.

She sat down on the couch, and I sat down beside her and quickly snuffed out the space between us. I put my arm around her and started snapping away. Yeah, I definitely had a thing for pictures of me and my girl.

Not the tickling… shit! She looked so happy, though – she was smiling that mischievous smile of hers, I couldn't _not_ let her do it. But I _could_ beg her, and remind her that I didn't mind begging, if that's what it took.

And when the moment arose and I had a chance to kiss her – fuck if I wasn't going to take it. I went slow, trying to give her a chance to back out, if that's what she wanted, but she stayed put.

Fucking miraculous. The first time our mouths touched, it was nothing short of fucking miraculous. I was in so deep already, it wasn't even funny. Our lips were barely touching, and already she owned me. When her hands grabbed the front of my jersey and pulled me closer, I felt dizzy. Crazy with want already, I plunged my hands into her hair and opened my mouth to catch her bottom lip between mine. I knew I was shaking, but I could feel that she was, too. Was it at all possible that this kiss was affecting her the same way it was me?

I could have stayed like that all day. Hell, I could've stayed like that for the rest of my fucking life, and died a happy fucker. Over and over I captured her lips with mine, and every time I did, I felt sparks. Every time our lips parted and then came back together, I felt it shoot all the way down to my toes. I would never have believed that something so simple as a kiss could make me feel like this; it never had with anyone I'd ever been with before. Not even Tanya. If I was this gone over a kiss, what was I going to be like for sex with Bella? My whole body heated at the thought.

I touched her lip with my tongue, and she opened to me immediately. I thought briefly of the way a flower opens to the sun, and then I was lost. Fuck, if this was what kissing was supposed to be like all the time, I had been missing out for many, many years. I felt cheated.

She pulled away from me, and I watched as she pressed her palms to her cheeks. Fuck. That blush was so fucking enticing. Screw the doorbell shit – let's just ignore them and see where this goes. I don't even care about the fucking game anymore, and that's saying something.

But Bella took the opening, and ran away again. One of these times, I was going to corner her so she _couldn't_ run away, and see what happened then. I went downstairs and planted myself on the sofa, trying not to look too smug about what had just happened – so far, it was definitely the best few minutes of my life.

When Bella came back with Alice behind her, I tried to tone down my satisfied expression. Alice knew better, and Bella ran to the kitchen.

"Edward," she hissed, as soon as Bella was out of sight. "What the hell is going on? I thought you were dead- you haven't answered any texts or phone calls, and that's just not like you."

"I've been here the whole time," I said, shaking my head at her. "You knew that. Sorry that I was otherwise occupied. What was so important that you felt the need to seek me out?"

"Nothing really – I just wanted to know how things were going. Do you need any advice?" I rolled my eyes.

"Alice, I'm a big boy, in case you haven't noticed. I've been with lots of women – I think I can handle it."

"Bella's not like other women, Edward," she said, frowning at me. "And you weren't in love with any of those other women, either." I could feel my eyes widen and my mouth drop open.

"What the- have you been talking to Dad?"

"You told Dad before you told me?" she screeched. I glanced towards the kitchen, then looked back at my sister.

"I needed a male perspective. Emmett only cares about getting laid, and Jasper's so gone on you he may as well be neutered." She smacked my arm. "And I know Bella's different, for the record."

"Just be careful with her," she whispered hurriedly, hugging me. "And next time, answer your damn phone so I don't have to have Jazz drive me across town! Love you – bye!" Then she was gone. Meddling pixie. She was lucky I loved her so much.

When I went into the kitchen, Bella was pulling a beer from the fridge. She seemed skittish, and I wondered if the mood could go back to the way it was before my sister had shown up. When she turned away from me, I decided to find out if the moment had totally passed.

It hadn't.

Fuck, this girl always surprised me. I expected her to run when I'd cornered her, but she'd upped the ante on me. I pressed my lips to hers once lightly, because if I did any more than that, we were not leaving this fucking kitchen.

Fucking Christ on a cracker, she was touching my face! Soft fingertips gently explored the scruffy skin of my jaw, then my cheek; fingers turned to palms, and she was rubbing my face. My heart was beating so hard, I'm sure she heard it.

Jesus. She pressed her soft cheek against mine, and I was done. I wrapped my arms around her and held on for all I was worth. What may have seemed like a small gesture to her was a huge fucking deal to me. In some strange way in my mind, what she'd just done equaled total acceptance. She wanted every part of me. Okay, maybe she hadn't necessarily meant it to be such a meaningful gesture, but goddamn, she _liked_ the scruff. Tanya (along with any other chick who'd gotten past the first date with me) had always hated facial hair of any kind. I had the feeling that Bella wouldn't have cared if I'd grown a full beard.

Fuck, I was so in love, it hurt.

Then she pulled away, and it was game time. Was I so whipped already that I was okay with whatever we were doing, so long as we were together? Hell fucking yes. I would probably get down on my hands and knees and bark like a fucking dog if she told me to – thank fuck she didn't know that yet.

The food smelled amazing. The view of her svelte ass was nearly a religious experience as we went upstairs. She practically ran the whole way, she was so anxious for the game. Before I'd even reached the top of the stairs, she was cursing at the TV. This was going to be a good game, I could tell.

Without even really stopping to consider whether or not it was okay to do it, I kissed her after the first touchdown.

My girl was a rabid fan. I'd known it before, but hearing her tell me and actually seeing it firsthand are two very different things. I joined her as she cussed, stomped, and threw obscene gestures at the TV. This was the most fun I'd ever had watching a football game.

She'd drank so much beer that she had to run to the bathroom. I turned and looked, and she was just standing in the middle of the doorway, smiling at me. I couldn't help but smile back, and I had to ask why she was smiling.

I look good on her couch? Fuck. Me.

Did she think I looked good in her bed, too? Because I wanted to know that shit.

I've said it before – it's the little details, right?

Halftime came, and to me, that meant some more physical contact. She didn't even protest or giveme a funny look this time – no wisecracks, either. That was a good sign; she was getting more comfortable with the contact.

Fuck me. I love this easy teasing. She likes a man in black and gold, and I match the room? I'm telling her exactly how I feel when I tell her I love a woman in black and gold. I just don't specify and tell her that it's the woman sitting next to me.

Then I told her that the pants she's wearing make her ass look hot. Fuck, baby, do you really not know how good you look? I'm willing to be a little embarrassed and admit that I check out your ass all the time – then maybe you'll believe me. I won't ever lie to you. I wonder if she'll ever walk up the stairs before me again, after my admission.

Apparently I said something right, because she rewards me with a kiss. I think it was meant to be a quick peck, but I wasn't letting that happen. I deepened the kiss, hell bent on tasting her again. Goddamn but this woman could kiss – it was perfect; not too wet, not too messy, and it was turning me on beyond all fucking belief.

Then I heard the third quarter begin, and I pulled away, because I didn't think she'd want to miss any of the game. I kept my arm around her, though, and every now and then, I would rub her hip with my thumb. A few times when I did it, she shivered.

She was on her feet a few more times, cursing at the refs and the moronic commentators who kept making comments about how our O-line needed some help out there. I finally told her to come and sit down, and she made it sound like I was asking for more – and I can't resist teasing her back when she does that. She was visibly flustered, but she swung her legs over my lap anyway. Fuck, yeah.

I made the suggestion about watching the game with Emmett, and she went along with it. I was mildly surprised, considering she didn't really know my brother, but I think she'd be amenable to it if her realtor friend came too. I wondered if she realized that I'd made it sound like we were living together and about to have company, like it was an everyday thing.

Fuck, her friend is a _Patriots_ fan? If Emmett knew that, he wouldn't have fucked her. My entire family hated the Patriots with a passion – even my mother, who knew next to nothing about football.

She seemed surprised to hear that Emmett and her friend had been fucking in the hotel room. I'd been surprised, too, the first night when I'd been woken from a good fucking dream about my girl. Trust me, it's not a pleasant thing to wake up to the sound of Emmett getting some. I didn't bother to let them know that I was awake – they probably wouldn't have cared, anyway. I shoved my earbuds in, turned my iPod up, and went back to sleep. At least they had the courtesy to do it in the shower the next night – though the water didn't act as a buffer like they'd probably hoped.

Have I mentioned how much I fucking love her laugh? I need to make her do that shit more often.

Fuck…

Did she-?

…did she actually just tell me that I could stay here? With her?

Does she realize that that meant that we'd actually be living together? Maybe not in the sense that I was thinking, but still… for a girl who was more than reluctant to be in a relationship, this was a big deal. I was so stunned, I didn't answer for a few minutes.

Once she'd said it was okay for me to start tonight, I changed the subject, because my girl was clearly uncomfortable. That only made her offer mean that much more to me. I knew she'd been uncomfortable when she'd made the offer, but she'd done it anyway, and she had no idea what that gesture said to me.

Kissing and staying over and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, we won.

The whole day had felt like one giant win for me.

I decided not to wait because I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her, so I told her I was going to run back to the hotel and get my shit. I swear to god, I sped the whole way across town to that fucking miserable hotel. I grabbed whatever I could find that looked like it might belong to me, and I shoved it into my duffel bag. Of course, most of my shit was in the giant fucking U-Haul that was sitting in the parking lot of Emmett and Jasper's new building, but it was in the same truck as the fucking office furniture they'd hauled across the country with them. I think they had two days left before they had to turn the truck in, but what the fuck ever – I had what I needed to be with my girl.

I went back upstairs and dropped my bags, and of course, there was music playing… and a fucking mouthwatering smell in the air. I went to the kitchen and had to bite back a laugh – my girl was singing and dancing.

_I wanna fall like a waterfall falls_

_Leap like Superman can, over super tall walls_

_Soar like an eagle, roar like a lion_

_Never give up, never stop trying_

Jesus Christ. My chest got tight at the sight of her.

I was so in love – I was totally fucked.

Then I announced myself, and she told me the smell was chocolate chip cookies. She didn't have to say it twice; I was all over that shit. I was going to get fucking fat from whatever she made, and I wasn't going to complain a bit.

Some chit chat back and forth, and then the fucking air is sucked from my lungs when she asks if I'm going to make a habit of sleeping in her bed with her. I asked her if she wanted me to, and because she was flustered, she turned it back on me.

I was all over that shit.

And I was _not_ going to lie to her – because otherwise I would surprise the fuck out of her tomorrow morning when she woke up and I was right fucking there.

She surprised me again and told me that I may as well put my things in her room – so I did, before she could change her mind.

In another attempt to make her feel more comfortable after an intense moment, I asked her if she wanted to watch another game. She said yes, but I could tell she wasn't really as into it as the Steelers game. Another surprise – she sits down and rests her legs across my lap, which I fucking love. She's getting comfortable with me.

Why is she smiling at me like that? I don't know, but I like it. A lot.

The fuck? She thinks she doesn't know me? She's seen more of me than anyone else outside my family circle. I tell her that people have gotten married knowing less about each other than she knows about me, and she replies with the fucking comment. I can _feel_ my breathing hitch, and I wonder if she notices.

Why don't we try it and see how it works, baby?

Fuck. I don't want to hear about past boyfriends, or flings, or one-night stands. I don't want to think about the fact that other men have had the chance to touch her the way only I should be able to. Clearly she's uncomfortable again, so I do my best to fix it.

Why the hell won't she tell me what song made her blush like that? I want to hear it even more now. I was honest with her – I think we have some musical vibe going on, and I just wanted to see if it was still going with the new song. She _really_ doesn't want me to listen to it, does she?

You're not going anywhere, baby, unless it's with me to the bedroom. Fuck, my brain is about to short circuit from the feel of her on my lap.

Then she turned the fucking tables on me again. Goddamn, I love this woman. She keeps me on my toes. When I tell her the song I'd play, I see the recognition in her eyes, and I watch as realization washes over her. She must at least suspect that I've done it purposely, because her cheeks pink. Finally a moment of honest clarity from her, and then our mouths are fused together.

This is how I want to die.

Our mouths attached and her on my lap – sensory fucking overload.

Electricity when we touch, fire when we kiss. Her fingertips scorch my jaw with their gentle, feather-light touches, and I'm lost.

And all we're doing is kissing.

Obviously I have been doing something wrong for a very, very long time; if this is what kissing is supposed to feel like, I have been missing out.

I realized at that moment that I don't want to ever be part of another kiss that _doesn't_ feel like this. I can't know what this feels like, and then go back to what I've known before. If that means that I will only ever kiss Bella again… well, so be it.

Her stomach growls, and I feel like a dick for not having ordered dinner when she told me to. I call it in and follow her downstairs, upset that I'd let the mood be ruined. I jump at the chance to listen to the song, though, and I'm not the least bit surprised when I like it. I picked up what had probably made her blush, but she needed to know that she could take the initiative with me. I told her so, because fuck if I wasn't getting turned on at the thought of her just attacking me and taking what she wanted from me.

We ate dinner with a bit of light chatting, and then she was ready for bed. I pulled off my jersey and jeans and yellow socks, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. I considered putting on a shirt, but decided against it when I thought of Bella touching my bare skin. She hesitated in the doorway, but it was only for a moment. Then the lights were off, and she was in my arms, where she belonged.


	13. Chapter 12

I wake up, and the room around me is still dark. That's a good sign – Saturday when I'd woken up (after Alice's phone call, anyway), the room had been filled with sunlight. I rub my eyes, trying to clear them so I can get a better look at the clock on the night stand, and an arm tightens around me.

Oh yeah, I'm awake now.

"Why are you awake, baby? It's only three. Go back to sleep." His voice is rough with the sleep I've interrupted. Fuck, I won't be able to go back to sleep now – he called me baby again. My stomach erupts in butterflies.

"If I go back to sleep, I won't be able to get up in an hour," I whisper back. Before I realize what I'm doing, I've snuggle back into him.

"Mmm." My stomach does a somersault. "Well, if you're going to stay awake, I can think of a few things to kill the time with."

"I'm sure you can," I shoot back, ignoring my racing heart. "So can I – like making some coffee." He groans and buries his face in the back of my neck, and I can't fight the shiver that shakes my body.

"Bella, I want to spend the morning in bed. With you, in case you hadn't understood what I was saying."

A lump rises in my throat. He wants to spend the morning in bed with me?

"What about yesterday? We were in bed together yesterday morning."

"Not that I don't enjoy every second I spend with you, but you jumped out of bed as soon as you woke up. I'm not trying to keep you from going to work, I swear, but fuck, Bella – you've got to get more rest. You're going to kill yourself if you keep going the way you are now."

I bite my lip, not knowing what to focus on first. He enjoys every second with me? He thinks I need more rest? He _cares_ about me getting more rest? My head is spinning.

"Am I that repellent?" he asks quietly. Fuck, now he sounds hurt.

"No," I say quickly, reaching up and putting my hand on his arm. I squeeze it once gently. "Edward, you have to understand, I've been doing this for a long time. I've only known you for four days. I am very set in my routine."

"Then I'll just have to get set in your routine with you."

"What?" I turn in his arms to face him, my eyes wide. "No! You should stay home and sleep. There's no reason for you to get up when I do."

"There is if I'm going to be working with you downstairs."

"No! Edward, you don't need to keep the same hours as me."

"I do if I ever want to see you aside from buying a cup of coffee from you." I'm overwhelmed. Is this man really going to get up at four every morning, work all day, and not go to bed until ten, just to see me? I don't want him to do that. He is going to be exhausted before the end of the week. He's already gotten up to drive Alice those two days in a row – he doesn't need to do it for me. I won't ask him to, despite the fact that I really want to see him, too.

"I don't-" He cuts off my words by tugging me closer and pressing a closed-mouth kiss to my lips. He pulls away and looks me in the eyes.

"I want to be with you, Bella." My heart flips. My stomach fills with butterflies. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. My entire body tingles. His words could be taken more than one way, and I'm not sure which way he's meant them.

"I can't ask you to get up at four every morning and stay awake all day for me."

"You didn't." He presses another kiss to my lips, and I sigh. I let my eyes slip shut, and his lips touch the corner of my mouth. Then they touch my jaw. Oh god… then there's another kiss further down my jawline, and this time I feel his warm breath. Another kiss, another one… and then he's at my neck. His tongue slips out and touches the skin of my throat, and I realize that I've tilted my head back to allow him better access.

Fuck… I'm never going to get out of bed at this rate. The sad part is that I don't care, either.

I feel, rather than hear, the moan slip through my lips when he opens his mouth wider and flattens his tongue against my skin. He sucks once lightly, and I feel my eyes roll back in my head. I dig my fingernails into the skin of his arm, which I hadn't realized I'd even still been holding. Then his mouth is on my collarbone, lightly sucking and nipping, and because I can't help myself, I arch against him and moan softly again.

"Bella," he whispers against my skin. The way he says my name – like a benediction – makes my flesh erupt in chills. Goosebumps rise all over, and I start to tremble. His mouth moves back up the length of my neck, and came to a stop at my ear. His hot breath on the shell of my ear makes me shiver again, and his tongue lightly traces the path his lips just took. When he starts pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot just below my ear, I suck in a deep breath.

"Edward, what are you doing?" He doesn't stop, though, and makes the circuit again from my ear down to my collarbone. It feels like a sauna in here, it's so damned hot, but he doesn't seem to notice. He sucks on my collarbone again, and I can't take it anymore. My heart pounds inside my chest. Am I really going to say this? When I feel his teeth scrape lightly against the skin of my neck, I moan – _loudly_.

"Fuck, Bella," he breathes.

"Yes." He stops and pulls away just enough to look at my face.

"What?"

"Yes. Either fuck me now, or stop so I can get ready to go to work," I challenge. I don't know which one I'm really hoping for… until he pulls away, and I feel disappointment flood through me.

"It's three thirty."

"So?"

"It's not enough time." Fuck… my blood heats to boiling. Is he fucking serious? It's nearly an hour – an hour's not long enough for sex? I can't remember it ever having lasted for more than thirty minutes, and Mike considered _that_ a marathon. "Unless you stay in this morning, and let Alice open like she wants to."

I know by the look on his face that he knows how fucking tempted I actually am. And he knows that I know that he knows when he leans forward and presses another kiss to my jaw.

"I have to get up." I don't move, though.

"Don't misunderstand me," he says, moving his hand around so that his fingers are stroking the small of my back. Gently, ever so gently, he tugs up the bottom of my shirt just enough so that his fingers touch my bare skin. "I want to – badly. So goddamn much, you have no fucking earthly idea. But when I do, I want to do it right and take my time doing it." Can he feel me shaking?

Is this what I want?

His hand moves around the waistband of my pants, and his thumb barely skims below it, and I have my answer in the way I get simultaneous hot and cold sensations.

Yes.

I want to fuck Edward as hard as humanly possible, as many times as humanly possible – and as soon as I can.

…which can be right now, if I just call Alice and tell her that she can open the shop again this morning without me.

He doesn't wait for me to reply, but gets up and goes to the bathroom, leaving me feeling cold and still shuddering with want. The enormity of what I'm about to do is not lost on me, and I know that things are about to change irrevocably, but for the first time in my life, I'm going to take control of my relationship with someone, rather than sit back and just watch it unfold. I reach over and grab Edward's phone from its spot on the nightstand, and I scroll through to find Alice's number. I press _send_ and wait as it rings.

Edward walks back into the bedroom as Alice picks up, and my heart is racing so fast, it hurts. Nerves fill my stomach. He freezes just inside the doorway and stares at me.

"Bella! Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Alice. I was just wondering if you'd mind opening again for me this morning?" Edward's lips part slightly, even though his eyes darken impossibly.

Alice squeals from the other end of the line, and nearly bursts my eardrum.

"Yes! Now don't bother coming in too early – I'd kind of planned on this anyway. Leah's coming in to help. Go back to sleep and enjoy your morning! Bye!"

I feel kind of like a harlot for calling in so I can have sex, and I feel even worse knowing that I've called in to have sex with her _brother_, but fuck if the look he's giving me doesn't promise that he's going to make it all worth it.

"Did you just call in to work?"

"First time ever," I confirm, nodding. I sit his phone back down where it was.

"You called in to work for _me?_" he clarifies.

"Yes." I pause for a moment, looking down at the duvet. "I still have no idea what I'm doing."

Edward is across the bedroom so fast, I wonder if he flew. Before he can kiss me though, I hold up my hands.

"Gotta brush my teeth first!" I move to get off the bed, but he stops me by tackling me and holding my arms on the bed above my head.

"Bella, you just called in to work for the first time ever, just to stay home with _me._ I don't give a good goddamn about any fucking morning breath." My body is consumed with heat when he leans down and fastens his mouth to mine.

Mother of all that's fucking holy. Jesus fuck… he's released my hands and his hands are moving down my sides. One stops at the edge of my breast, and the other one keeps moving until it reaches my hip. My skin tingles with anticipation, but he doesn't move further than that. Instead he chooses to focus all of his attentions on my mouth, kissing me within an inch of my life. He alternates between light, teasing kisses, and deep, thorough kisses.

Just when I think I can't take any more, his mouth begins to move along my jaw, gently nipping and kissing as it does. He gets to the sensitive part at the junction of my jaw and neck, but instead of kissing it, he stops and moves to the hollow at the base of my throat. I shudder and moan when he dips his tongue into it, and I hear an answering groan from him. He circles it with the tip of his tongue, and then moves to begin paying attention to my collarbone. When he sucks on it, I arch against him.

"Edward," I breathe, my fingers sifting through the soft strands of hair that tickle the nape of his neck. "Please."

"I told you I was going to take my time," he reminds me, his voice gravelly.

"I know. You can take your time later – please, just… I need you _now_."

"Fuck," he growls out, lifting his head so he can look me in the eyes. "How the fuck can I say no to that?"

"Then stop talking, and take my fucking shirt off already," I demand. He moves so I can sit up, and then he yanks my shirt off roughly. I shimmy out of my pajama bottoms as he does the same thing, and then there are no barriers between us, and I have one last moment of _am I really going to do this?_

I look down at him, erect and throbbing, as he kicks the pants off of his ankle. While he is no Ron Jeremy, he is also much, _much_ bigger than Mike.

Hell fucking yes, I am going to do this. All fucking morning.

And maybe even a few times tonight, after I get back from work.

He's on top of me again, his mouth fused to mine, and I reach around to grab his ass – the one that I've secretly admired every time he's turned his back to me. When I squeeze, he groans into my mouth. I swallow it and then it's my turn to gasp when his hand closes on my right breast. He uses the opportunity to break free from my mouth, and fastens his mouth to my nipple. My hands move to hold his head in place as I squirm against him. I can feel the length of him hot and throbbing against my inner thigh, and I shift just enough so that he's pressed right up against me.

He whimpers and moves to rest his forehead against mine. Why isn't he moving?

"Please, Edward," I beg, pressing a kiss to his chin. "Please." I repeat the word over and over as I kiss down his jawline, but it's only when I open my mouth and nip at his chin that he responds to me.

"I'm going to come the nanosecond I'm inside of you," he rasps. "Just like a fucking teenager."

"We've got all morning," I reply, nipping at his throat with my teeth. "Please."

"Goddamn, baby," he whispers, "You don't have to beg me. I'm yours. I'm so fucking yours." Before I can think about how to respond, he's pushed inside and _fuckmeohgodsofull_… "Bella," he moans, and then he shifts as he withdraws and reenters, and I see stars.

"More," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. "More, please." He withdraws, thrusts again, and I cry out. He freezes.

"Baby, am I –"

"So good," I nearly cry. "Please, Edward!" It's all the encouragement he needs, and he begins thrusting in earnest. Every time he enters me, I see stars, and gradually I feel a new sensation pooling in my abdomen. It's almost like… it's like I'm climbing a hill, and if could only get to the top, I know something wonderful is waiting there for me.

And then suddenly he thrusts one more time, roughly, and the stars explode behind my eyes, splintering off into brilliant new galaxies, and my entire body is throbbing and singing and ohfuckohfuckohfuck I'm in love with Edward and now I realize it and oh _fuuuuck_ he's still moving…

Suddenly his thumb is on my overly sensitive clit and he's rubbing gently as he thrusts and I can feel it building again, that feeling in my stomach, but I thrash my head back and forth on the pillow because I feel like my body might fly apart if it happens again and surely no one can take this much sensation and still live afterwards.

"Edward," I hear myself cry, as I fall over the edge of the cliff again.

"Bella!" he yells my name, and moves two more times, and then collapses on top of me. I love the way his body weighs mine down. I love that I can see the sweat that has begun to slick his body. But most of all, I love him, and the realization both makes my heart soar and scares the holy fucking shit out of me.

After a minute, his weight is too much.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I announce, and he laughs as he gently pries himself away from me and rolls over. His laughter follows me as I run to the bathroom. I try not to dwell on the fact that my legs are shaky at best, or that my entire lower half is still tingling. Am I a nymphomaniac if I feel like I'm already ready to go again? Now that the fast and frantic is out of the way, we can get down to the slow and leisurely, which I am very much looking forward to. With my luck, though, I think as I wash my hands, Edward will be asleep when I go back to bed. It is only four thirty in the morning, after all.

I reenter the bedroom and am surprised to see Edward lying on his side, waiting for me. I want to approach slowly because despite the fact that I've just had my first (and second) orgasm, I feel shy being totally naked in front of him with the light on. Then I see the way he's looking at me, as if I'm something to eat, and I can feel the heat from the top of my head to the tips of my painted toes. I approach the bed and climb in, and as soon as I do, he pulls the duvet over both of us and begins kissing me slowly.

He gently cups my face in both hands, and his kiss is light but insistent. The way he's holding me combined with the soft way that he's kissing me makes me feel like I'm something precious to him. The thought is enough to make tears sting behind my eyelids, and I squeeze them shut and pour everything I have into this kiss.

I have known this man for four and a half days.

80 hours.

4,800 minutes.

288,000 seconds.

It's such a short time, and already he has invaded my work, my home, my bed, and my heart.

I never knew it was possible to fall so fast.

The thought repeats itself over and over in my mind as he continues to kiss me.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn't go far, and he doesn't release his light hold on my face. He rests his forehead against mine and captures my lips with his one more time.

"Bella," he says, his voice low and rough. I open my eyes and look at his, and it almost looks like there are unshed tears in his eyes, too. "Fuck – I don't… there aren't any words, baby."

I don't have any either. His kisses steal them away from me.

This time when we come together, it's nowhere near as frantic, although it's every bit as needy. He spends a long time exploring the curves of my breasts and stomach, and when I've finally had enough, I let him know by reaching down to cup the curve of his ass and move him where I want him to be. He doesn't argue, and his lips catch mine once before he pulls away and watches me. His eyes remain on my face as he slides inside, and I can feel my eyes roll back into my head as he begins to move.

"Bella, look at me," he says, his voice hoarse. I open my eyes, and when I do, he reaches down and slides an arm under my left leg, lifting my knee. The next time he thrusts, I see stars, and it must show on my face too, because he smiles brilliantly at me and thrusts harder. I moan.

"Don't stop!" I command him. He pulls back a little, but just as I'm about to protest he enters me again, and the sensation is so fantastic that it wracks my body. I can feel myself shaking. I come before him, and I dig my fingernails into his shoulder blades as I do. As I'm relishing in the sensation, he comes, and I can _feel_ it happening inside of me.

This time when he collapses, it's to my side, and after he catches his breath he motions me over. I snuggle into him and rest my head on his chest. I can hear his heart racing almost as quickly as mine is.

"Goddamn," he whispers. "You always fucking surprise me."

"I thought you liked that," I answer, confused.

"I love it." He chuckles softly, and then rubs my shoulder with a shaking hand. "Good morning, Bella." When he says this, I finally notice the watery sunlight streaming through the window.

"Good fucking morning, Edward," I reply, feeling satisfied, but snarky. He laughs loudly, and it rumbles in my ear.

"It sure the hell is," he agrees. And then, because the motion of his hand is soothing and because I am thoroughly sated, I drift off to sleep.

The first thing I'm aware of before I even open my eyes is the smell of coffee. I blink and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, and I sit up slowly. Edward is nowhere to be seen, but that would explain the faint music I hear coming from the direction of the kitchen. I wrap the sheet around me and make my way into the kitchen, where I stop and lean against the doorway to watch.

Edward has put his sweatpants back on, but they hang low enough on his hips that I can see the defined V between his hips and a good bit of his happy trail. His chest is bare and so are his feet, and never before this moment would I have ever thought that bare feet could be sexy, but on him they are.

I am fascinated by the way the muscles in his back move as he moves around the kitchen. How have I missed how gracefully he moves before now?

I watch as he rummages through my cabinets and comes up with two mugs, and then I realize what he's doing. He's got buttered toast on a plate and he's pouring two cups of coffee – he's bringing me breakfast in bed. My heart flutters. If I hadn't realized that I was in love with him already, it would have hit me like a sledgehammer just now.

I must make a noise, because he turns and sees me, and the color on his cheeks is just abso-fucking-lutely adorable. Then he realizes that I have nothing on but a sheet, and his look turns predatory.

"I was trying to make you some breakfast, but toast is the only thing I've ever managed," he explains, stepping towards me. I meet him halfway and wind one arm around his neck to pull him down for a deep kiss. His hands are instantly on my ass, pulling me closer to him.

"Thank you," I breathe, when we separate.

"If this is the thanks I get for toast, I'll gladly make it ever y day." I snort, and he grins.

"What time is it, anyway?" I ask, reluctantly moving away from him to pour cream into my coffee.

"Around eight." I should be worried by this. The late start to my morning should definitely bother me, considering how badly it freaked me out on Saturday morning… but it doesn't. Instead it feels luxurious and slow and restful. I pour the cream and spoon in some sugar. As I'm stirring, his arms wrap around my waist. I manage to take a sip and not spill it on myself even though he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. "You don't seem in any hurry to get to work now," he observes.

"Should I be?" I wonder, turning my head to look at him. Is he ready to get rid of me, now that he's gotten what he wants?

"You were Saturday."

"Today is not Saturday."

"Thank fucking God," he agrees. I snort and take another drink. He rests his chin on my shoulder, and we stay in this position until I've drained my cup. "More?" he asks.

"Definitely." I turn in his arms and wrap both of my arms around his neck this time. His eyes widen for a moment, and then he grins.

"You never do what I think you'll do."

"What did you think I'd do?" I ask, curious.

"I was sure you'd wake up and be in a panic. You'd be freaking out over what we'd done and you'd be even more freaked out that you'd slept so late. But you're not freaking out at all."

"I could probably manage it, if that's what you really want."

"No – I like this. Don't move." We stand there, pressed together like that for a while. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For calling in. For staying with me. For not leaving me here with a boner. All of the above, really." I pull away and smack his arm. He laughs, and I can't help but smile back when I see the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. His dimples appear on his cheeks, and it makes me smile harder.

"I wouldn't have been worth much of anything if I'd gone down there," I admit, looking away in embarrassment. "I was pretty worked up, too."

He slips his forefinger under my chin and gently forces it up so I can look into his eyes, and his thumb lightly strokes my chin.

"Hey. Don't ever be embarrassed or ashamed to say anything to me. I'll never be anything but honest with you, and I want you to do the same for me."

"Okay. But it probably would've been better for my evaporating work ethic to have jumped you yesterday during the game when I really wanted to." He looks surprised, and then he barks out a laugh.

"Are you serious? Why the fuck didn't you? It would've put me out of my misery."

"What?"

"I couldn't focus on half of the fucking game, because all I could think about was how your ass looked in your hot pants – and the fact that all you had on under that fucking jersey was a bra." I blink at him in surprise.

"How did you know that?"

He looks down, and I bite back a laugh, because he looks very much like a little boy who's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I watched you put it on."

"You did?"

"You have no fucking idea how much it hurts to walk around all day with a hard-on. Next time, do me a favor and just fuck my brains out when you get the urge."

I laugh, and then I grab his face and kiss him. He moans and kisses me back with just as much enthusiasm. When we break apart, we are both smiling like idiots.

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him. "But I probably _do_ need to be getting to work soon."

"Alice got pissed at me last time because I didn't keep you away long enough. We have plenty to keep us busy now though, don't we?"

"What time did Alice tell you to bring me in last time?" I wonder aloud.

"One."

"So we'd have five hours to kill if I go in when she wants me to. What the fuck would we do for five hours?"

"I'd take my time," he says, tugging my sheet down far enough that my breasts are exposed. He reaches down and cups one in his right hand, lightly brushing the nipple with his thumb. I suck in a quick breath and look down at his hand. It's erotic, watching his hand move over my skin, and seeing the reactions I give without consciously doing so.

"You're ready again?" I ask, almost amazed. All I can think as I watch his head dip and take my nipple into his mouth is that the nap we took afterwards must have really regenerated him. He sucks lightly, and the sensation shoots all the way to my feet. "Edward?"

"Busy," he hums, and his breath tickles my breast. "Call back later." I laugh softly, and he brings his face back up to mine.

"I need to take a shower, and then maybe we can eat before I go in?" I offer. He sighs and releases me, but not without a pointed stare at my bared breasts. I bite my lip as he pouts.

"Okay." He doesn't sound happy at all…

"Actually," I say, glancing down the hallway before looking back at him, "I meant _we_ could take a shower." I can hear the note of uncertainty in my own voice and I hate it, but obviously it was a waste of worry – his face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Seriously? Why are we just standing around?" I laugh as he drags me off to the bathroom.

An hour and a half later, I am finally dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, and my docs are on. Edward is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, blocking my exit, and watching me.

"Those jeans don't do your ass justice – just so you know." I stop brushing my hair and turn to look at him.

"Excuse me?" I look down at them and frown. "What's wrong with them?"

"They're too loose." I roll my eyes and brush my hair again.

"If they were too tight, wouldn't you be worried about every man looking at my ass?" As soon as the words are out, I want to bite my tongue off. That really sounded catty, and it implies that he wants more from me than just sex, and I'm not even sure right now that that's the case.

"Touché," he says, his voice soft. I put the brush down and turn to look at him, an apology ready on my lips, but he stays me with a shake of his head. "You're right. I don't want to spend the entire day feeling like I'm going to kick the ass of every man who walks into the café. But you should also know that wearing loose jeans won't help – they'll all look at your ass anyway."

"Right," I scoff, still feeling a little guilty for sounding like a possessive bitch when we haven't really committed to anything. I pull my hair up into its usual bun, and he sighs.

"You seriously don't think you're attractive, is that it?" I frown.

"I'm attractive enough," I say, shrugging. It's the truth – I've had boyfriends, and I've had lovers, so obviously something about me is attractive. But I'm no Rosalie. She is drop dead gorgeous, and she is sex on legs – and I'm not naïve enough to think that I'm anywhere near being in her league.

"Bella," he says, reaching out and grabbing my wrist so he can pull me to him. "You should just face it. You have a hot ass." I snort and he grins, and then we're both smiling these big stupid smiles at each other.

"I knew you were a fucking pervert," I say, and his smile gets bigger.

"I think you've missed a conversational cue. This is the part where you tell me how luscious my ass is, too."

"You have a really big ego, don't you?"

"That's not all that's big," he says, waggling his eyebrows. I laugh and shove him away.

…_to be continued_


End file.
